


Hold Me Fast

by crypt_mirror



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Ben Affleck Batman, Bottom Clark, Dark, Dreams and Nightmares, Easter Eggs, Graphic descriptions of violence, Henry Cavill Superman, M/M, MOS destruction, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, slight slow burn, will add tags as necessary - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 76,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6248623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crypt_mirror/pseuds/crypt_mirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne meet after the events in Man of Steel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1- Catch and Release

**Author's Note:**

> See notes at the end.

"How can you be him?"

"I could say that Clark Kent is who I am and Superman is what I can do, but I don't think that's your real question Bruce or do you prefer Batman?" Weak, chained with Kryptonite manacles, Clark Kent, Kal-El of Krypton was certain he was about to die.

 

____________________________________________________

 

NOW

 

 

CLARK STOOD in front of the black and white Cleon Peterson mural titled: A Balance of Terror. Admittedly he was feeling somewhat annoyed. To indulge himself he started focusing his vision. He saw beneath the black and white tortuous figures of the painting. He examined the weave of the canvas and looked at a minute section, studying how each stroke of black paint soaked through each individual fiber. This artist's style was very much rooted in graphic design with a style reminiscent of Greco Roman vases. It was one of the more disturbing art work that Clark had ever seen. A chaos of black and white figures depicting unchecked orgiastic brutality. A struggle between power and submission, portraying the reality that the greatest threat to humanity will always be humanity itself.

 

He sighed deeply, earlier during the night had confronted Bruce Wayne regarding the vigilante Batman. He answered with such condescension and dismissiveness that it would have made most men cower in a corner, but Clark Kent was not most men. Yet his heart sagged not because any future interview with him is now a bust, but apparently Bruce Wayne was also one of those that considered Superman a threat to the survival of this planet, he could add him to a very long list. It was unsettling to think that while the other half of the planet, thinks you are some sort of savior the other half believed you are a despot about to burn the world down.

 

Well, certainly staring at this painting wasn't going to help and he did get some sort of quote from the billionaire he decided he could call it a night. He was about to leave when he felt background chatter behind him began to ebb, almost like the sea parting for Moses, the distinct footfalls of custom made Italian leather shoes drew nearer till its owner stood next to him.

 

  
A masculine scent of citrus, patchouli and white musk teased his nostrils, "Interesting isn't it?" An amused tone spoke.

 

"Looking for a mural to hang on on one of your lobbies?"

 

He chuckled quietly. "The children's hospital might take issue with that."

 

They stood there not speaking. The world seemed to have sped around them disappearing into an anonymous din of chatter, clinking glassware and classical dinner music leaving them behind just the two of them staring at this painting.

 

"Mr. Wayne--"He turned to him.

 

"You kid, you've quite a pair on you."

 

Clark blinked and shook his head, thinking that his senses were probably screwing with him."Excuse me?"

 

Bruce Wayne tipped his head closer his breath hot on Clark's sensitive ear, " I said you've quite a _pair_ on you." His voice suggestive of what he could possibly do to that _pair_ Clark shifted, and tugged at his jacket. "I like that. So how about you come up to the rooftop in 30 minutes for an exclusive, I'm sure you can use that." Without waiting for Clark to answer he sauntered away champagne glass in hand, smiling his Bruce Wayne smile at a group by the bar.

 

Thirty minutes later Clark was at the rooftop. He reasoned to himself he really had nothing to lose. Enclosed all around with unobtrusive glass and steel with a bar on one side, the rooftop offered the most incredible views of the cityscape in the foreground and the seemingly gravity defying Metro-Narrows suspension bridge outlined in lights as background. At first glance it seemed no one was around, but Clark had seen a movement in the shadows. He moved near the edge not giving any indication that he had noticed the other man.

 

"I thought you wouldn't come."

 

"Well, I thought _you_ wouldn't come. I'm just the new guy at the puff piece producing Daily Planet after all."

 

A deep chuckle. "Alright kid, ask away." This time Bruce Wayne had detached himself from the shadows and settled at the bar stool of the rooftop bar, he produced two drink glasses and an impossibly expensive bottle of champagne. Clark mused at the fact that somehow he always had a drink with him, he sat on the bar stool next to him.

 

The billionaire started pouring the drinks, Clark decided to start simple to test the waters. " So what was the last book you've read?"

 

Bruce's lip twitched at the corner before he answered, "The Martian."

 

"The Martian? Not Steve Pinker?"

 

"Wrong billionaire, wait is Zuckerberg even a billionaire? Whatever, I'm not part of the billionaires' book club, I like being entertained plus I find it interesting to read a book like that written during far simpler times."

 

"Meaning?" Clark knew exactly what he was leading to, but decided to humor him.

 

"Before humanity had to deal with super powered aliens with God complexes."

 

He regarded Bruce steadily, this was not the first time he had to interview somebody who felt that way. Lois once advised him to just stay away from situations that will force him to write about himself, but he knew sometimes it wasn't always possible this is Metropolis and since everybody wrote about Superman in one way or the other he might as well, since it will look more suspicious not to. Still it was awkward, he was glad he could focus on his notes, he flipped a page of his notepad and continued his notes in shorthand.

 

Bruce Wayne shifted in his seat moving his long legs his knees grazing Clark's, Clark tried his best not to flinch. "He doesn't need to be here. We are perfectly capable of destroying ourselves as a species. We don't need a superior being with virtually unlimited powers thrown into the mix." He muttered the words talking more to himself than to Clark.

 

Clark was about to say something about cynicism but he saw something in Bruce Wayne's eyes, something clicked within him at that moment, "I'm sorry about Wayne Tower, Sir, I truly am."

 

He smiled faintly. "It's Bruce. Thank You." He took a swig from his glass and looked at Clark, "Is that your hard hitting question? Why did you come here? Come on!" He asked recklessly, a challenge flashing in his eyes.

 

Clark thought he was seriously becoming unhinged. "Because you asked me to come." He said simply, belying the worry that was starting to curl in his belly.

 

Silence began to fill the space between them. Bruce leaned back and adjusted his jacket, eyes still at Clark, assessing him, a strange knowing look. He tilted his head and seemed to stare into the air above Clark's head. It was unnerving and irritating at the same time. And because he was unnerved and slightly irritated Clark scanned Bruce, he only had a minimal amount of alcohol in his bloodstream therefore not drunk. For a moment Clark thought he had done something to offend him once again. But this is Bruce Wayne, he wondered if this is one of those quirky tactics that people use to unsettle others into revealing things about themselves. Clark let him have his moment as he shifted in his seat not speaking. Finally, Bruce seemed to have shaken himself off from some strange stupor.

  
"Indeed, I did. Again I'm sure you didn't come all this way to ask me, what was the last book I've read."

 

"No. So Batman's brand of justice --"

 

"Ahh! You do think it is justice!"

 

Clark reined himself in, he was here to ask questions not debate with him, time for a different tactic, "There is speculation that Batman is being funded by Wayne Enterprises?"

 

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. I have a lot of employees Clark, maybe one of them is Batman so then I guess I'm funding him. Why don't you ask me the real question that's bugging you."

 

" Aside from being very rich I see you read minds too. So what is the question?"

  
This time Bruce pitched his body forward his knee brushed Clark's crotch,"How the hell can I get Bruce Wayne to sleep with me?"

 

All these shifting moods... Clark thought, now it seems he wants to live up to his own press. Well, he doesn't have to do much. Tall and broad, a very handsome man with masculine chiseled features enhanced by the strands of silver on his dark hair. Having one of the healthiest bank account in the world did nothing to hurt his cause.

 

Clark moved his hips, the crotch of his pants now pressed against Bruce's knee. Bruce quirked a brow, a cool calm customer except for the quick intake of breath from the contact and the slight pick up of his heart rate, his hand slid onto Clark's thigh. Clark looked down on his hand then tipped his neck and angled his head towards the smirking lips and slowly passed a pink tongue across his upper lip. Bruce watched him attentively, a predator waiting to jump on his prey. Keeping his balance, with a hand on the bar, his face came next to Bruce's his mouth almost touching Bruce's ear. Bruce's hand began to travel to Clark's ass.

 

Clark caught his hand before it got any further and held his wrist in a gentle yet firm grip,"Oh, we could _touch_ on that at a different time," he murmured. The billionaire huffed in protest and was about to pull Clark in but the reporter detached himself quickly and hopped off the stool. Bruce blinked.

 

Clark smiled briefly before buttoning his coat."Bruce, I'm sure you're a very busy person. Thanks you so much for your time." He turned quickly, to hide his growing erection, he needed to get out of there and take care of it, it was getting uncomfortable but it was really worth it to see the shock in Bruce's face.

 

"Well, aren't we a touchy thing."

 

Clark gave a shrug and then threw him a sideways smile even if all he wanted to do was super speed out of there and hang Bruce's Bentley on top of the Metro-Narrows Bridge after he took care of the other thing of course.

 

"You are full of surprises, Clark." He called out then he tipped his glass at his retreating back.

 

He didn't answer nor turn instead just gave him a quick wave as he headed towards the exit. _You don't know the half of it._

 

Bruce watched Clark disappear into the stairwell before he reached into his pocket for his smartphone. He pressed a single button.

 

"Alfred. I'm not leaving tonight. Something came up."

 

"Came up... Sir?"

 

Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'll stay at the penthouse."

 

"Which one?"

 

Bruce huffed slightly, here he was a grown man being teased by his butler. "The new one,"he mumbled.

 

"Oh."

__________________________________________

 

Two days later around 6 pm Clark rode his bike in the busy streets of Metropolis. It was getting dark, the cool bite in the air reminding people it was still February even if lately it was warmer than normal. Some days he took the subways but some days he just liked the idea of being outside weaving through the traffic. Lois at first wondered why didn't he just super speed himself to work ( which he sometimes did). It was a way for him to establish a routine, to be seen by anyone who actually cared to notice that a) Clark Kent mild mannered reporter got out of his apartment each morning b) rode either his bike or the subway like the rest of the human race. Clark thought fondly of Lois, they tried to have a relationship initially but somehow over the course of time and largely because of his alter ego they both realized they were better off as friends.

 

Riding his bicycle he found also help him hone his senses. Between riding his bike at normal human speed and being conscious about all the things going around him as he weaved through the streets in between the tidal wave of people and vehicles, Clark's brain cycled through different emergency frequencies as he sifted through the sounds, if he were hard pressed to explain it -- it was almost like a search engine programmed to zero in to certain keywords.

 

He has to be careful not to hit anyone. It's basically the equivalent of hitting a concrete wall, him being the concrete wall. It had been a gray day followed by an even grayer afternoon, the all day downpour that finally stopped punctuated Metropolis with puddles that made it extra challenging for pedestrians.

 

Clark made a turn at the same time a black car was making the same turn, this wouldn't have been a problem if the black car wasn't going a little too fast and dangerously close to the curb. Clark's brain over time seemed to have started assigning threat levels to different things, unfortunately the threat level of being practically bathed in detritus filled stagnant water was apparently low---

 

"Look out! Mister!" A bystander yelled.

 

At the corner of his eye Clark could see the black car hitting the puddle, in a split second he could have moved but then it would mean that the disgusting water would splash a whole wall of pedestrians particularly the elderly couple behind him. So Clark stopped abruptly as expected, balancing his bicycle in between his legs as he stood there quietly drenched. The black car, a _Bentley_ screeched to a stop. A car door opened.

 

"I am so, so sorry."

 

Clark was staring down at a pair of custom made Italian leather shoes, as he adjusted his cap and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. The details of their little encounter two nights ago flooded his brain. _Oh great._

 

Clark wanted to get away there now. But people were stopping and looking at them curiously, where was big city indifference when you need it.

 

Clark looked up to see Bruce Wayne's concerned face. "Are you ok?"

 

He nodded jerkily. He was fine really he could just super speed home once this guy leaves him alone.

 

"Are you sure?"

  
He blinked, behind water soaked glasses. "Yeah, I'm ok no big deal." The curious bystanders had started drifting away seeing perhaps that there was no irate, working class biker vs insensitive rich guy in a Bentley– showdown.

 

Yup, no big deal although he was quite a sight standing there soaked, dripping and disgusting. He squeezed his eyes briefly and shrugged off his discomfort.

 

"Look, Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry for the other day." He frowned slightly. "Should you really be driving?"

 

"I happen to like driving. I'm not upset with you. Yet." In one fluid motion he pulled out the handkerchief from his breast pocket and offered it to Clark. The gesture itself seemed archaic, but Bruce Wayne did it so effortlessly like it was something he did everyday, offering his handkerchief to hapless putrid puddle soaked journalists. Clark almost half expected him to bow. Bruce held it out to him. "Please," he said once again.

 

Clark stared at it dumbly for second before he mumbled a thanks. He took the silk handkerchief ( embroidered with his initials of course) and dipped his head as he carefully removed his glasses. It was a good thing he was wearing his Kansas U cap thus partly obscuring his face. He cleaned them carefully extremely aware that Bruce's deep, hazel eyes were staring at him. The glasses came back on before he looked up.

 

"Thanks, sorry I got it all wet now." He held it out. Bruce took it and to Clark's surprise he started wiping Clark's forehead, his cheek before he passed it gently over his collar bone. The gesture was so intimate that Clark just froze under his ministrations.

 

"It's ok keep it." He handed it back to Clark and for some reason he felt compelled to take it from him. "That's not enough, you need a shower and a change of clothes. I have a place just 5 blocks up."

 

"Nah, I was just heading home. Really, it's fine."He started gripping his bike's handle bars as he angled it away from him. Bruce placed a firm hand over his. "I insist,"he said with intent. Clark looked down on them convinced that he had been stricken by some sort of paralysis being both unable to speak or move at this moment.

 

"Insist? Bruce?" he said evenly when he finally found his voice.

 

"Please." He said softly this time. Once again they were a frozen tableaux, the crowd parting around them in this busy corner of Metropolis.

 

"Move the fucking car and get a fucking room!" a cab driver yelled out. They both turned and glared at the taxi driver simultaneously.

 

Clark rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. "Fine."

 

Bruce popped the trunk of the Bentley. The trunk was this pristine dark carpeted space which looked more luxurious than his entire apartment it even smelled expensive.

 

" Ahh.. the bike, it's really wet and dirty."

 

Bruce gave him one of his smug smiles. "It's just dirt, Clark. Here let me" He proceeded to somehow take the bike and hoist it easily into the trunk without getting a single speck of mud on his immaculate dark blue suit.

 

"Get in."

 

Clark was about to comment on his disgusting state getting all his lovely leather upholstery messy. "But--"

 

"Come on, Clark!"

 

He gave up, and got into the the passenger's side and buckled himself and watched Bruce do the same. Bruce placed the car in gear and started heading uptown.

 

TBC

**********************************************

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

 

\---The Cleon Peterson mural descriptions for his painting came from his website.

  
\--I am going with Zack Snyder's concept for Metropolis and Gotham sort of like San Francisco and Oakland. But I've always loved the more Eastern seaboard feel to them and I'm also mixing in stuff from various DC maps.

\--- Finally, I posted this after waffling, for reasons -- a slightly different take on their meeting and what follows in the BvS universe. Hope you guys enjoy it. Kudos or comments are appreciated. Thanks!!

So I'm pretty much sold with Henry Cavill and Ben Affleck as Supes and Bats. I hope the movie doesn't prove me wrong. I want to move into a universe where these two can have a movie together like every year....sigh.  
.

My Tumblr: cryptmirror


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Spoilers in this fic, fic is based from the trailers
> 
> [Superman's Kryptonian suit](http://comicvine.gamespot.com/articles/five-developments-from-superman-7/1100-144498/) is based from this

WHILE BRUCE drove, he watched the journalist from the corner of his eye. He had on a very practical all weather dark brown jacket and a very standard nondescript plaid dress shirt of mostly dark blue and dark brown;  inexpensive but still of good quality with dark gray pants (Carhart) and black sturdy soled shoes. The kind of serviceable black shoes that can go anywhere. He could also see how the wet material of his shirt clung to his body; most of it was covered by the jacket but what Bruce could see was an outline of firm abdominal muscles. The man bikes so he wasn't surprised that he could be this fit. His eyes briefly roamed down where the dark pants stretched over his thighs. They were a little bit too baggy for him Bruce thought.

They passed by the Heroes' Park, the massive gray statue of a kneeling Superman coming to view. People were milling around having their pictures taken even on a cloudy day like this. A god that took humanity's side in a fight between gods. Bruce squelched the anger that was starting to well up inside of him.

Bruce noticed Clark tilt his head slightly towards its direction, there was a slight pursing of his lips; otherwise he didn't say anything.

The silence perplexed Bruce Wayne, and he wasn't too fond of being perplexed like this. Bruce had expected some reaction-- "gosh darn I'm being driven by Bruce Wayne." Usually people who found themselves alone with him got nervous and just launched into unending babble, for him this happenned to be one of the most useful ways to glean information. Clark seemed to be unaffected by him and his ego wasn't too happy about it.

"You okay there?" He needed to extract some reaction from him — something.

"Yeah, I'm good." Clark smiled a shy smile, blue eyes warm behind the glasses,"Thanks again. You didn't have to do this you know."

"Uh-hu, but I did so quit worrying."

"Ok, then."

After five blocks they stopped on the side of a building that faced the river. It was this stainless steel clad residential building, looking more like an art gallery than anything actually residential with its custom fabricated steel rain screen. Figures, Clark thought — of course Bruce would live in one of the most exclusive apartment units in the city, renowned not only for its luxury and location, but also for its distinctly designed ensuite Sky garage. A garage door opened activated by a sensor in the car. Bruce drove through an enclosed area, the car elevator, as soon as the car was parked properly, Bruce pressed another button that closed the doors. As it started to move up, Clark could see the incredible view of the water and the idyllic park alongside it.

Clark shook his head, "Do you have an underground lair too?" He quipped.

Bruce glanced at him and that smirk once again on his lips. They felt large gears shift as the elevator slowed to a stop. The steel doors behind them opened and Bruce backed the car into another space. As soon as the car was stopped the doors in front of the cars closed.

"We're here. And don't worry, the concierge will take care of your bicycle."

He jumped out, then stuck his right hand onto an access panel to open the door. Clark saw two cameras pan over them. He X-rayed the walls out of curiosity. There was another set of cameras and sensors scattered throughout the small space.

He followed Bruce through the entry space as he opened another door that led to the main area. He just basically started walking and talking as Clark stood there taking in the impressive sight before him.

" Use that guest room over there, there are clothes in the closet. If you can't find anything let me know, I'll send for it. I'll be in my office."

Clark sighed. What is with him just running off. You could barely get a squeak in. He stood there standing in the middle of the mammoth condo; 2 floors; 25 foot ceilings; an open floor design with floor to ceiling windows casement style windows. Everything breathed understated luxury down to the light colored teak floors, of which Clark was dripping his puddle water.

 

More than ever Clark wished he could just super speed to the bathroom but instead he just had to hurry along normal speed to the guest bedroom. Once inside, he placed a palm over his chest to "deactivate" his S shield. It formed his Kryptonian bio tech suit-- composed of Kryptonian nanites that responded to his genetic code only, Clark also discovered that it worked with the bioelectric field that surrounded his body, an offshoot of his solar powered cells. The S shield activated by thought and touch when he needed the whole suit. It also came off easily from his skin with just also a touch and a thought, in its neutral state when it wasn't on his body it felt hard and metallic. But in Clark's hands it felt fluid as it vibrated minute pulses of energy. Off his skin the red and yellow shield turned to dull gray and minimized to the size palm of his hand, thus making it convenient for him to carry around in his messenger bag.

He piled his dirty clothes on the floor, eager to enjoy the ridiculously outfitted bathroom, with a shower that looked like it had twenty settings, not too mention the high end bath items he recognized from overhearing Cat Grant's incessant critiquing for her blog site. As he let the water on the hot setting massage his body, he thought about Bruce. There was something going on there. Something that needed to be just left alone for all the most logical reasons. He groaned at the thought and really wanted to kick himself for letting Bruce talk him into coming here.

He finished his shower reluctantly and dried himself with the very plush towel. As his hands brushed his groin— the memory of how Bruce's hand pressed on his thigh two days ago came back he closed his eyes trying to will the image away but that made it worse because now he was imagining those hands on his ass. _Wonderful. Clark._ He thought ruefully. Lois once teased him that people didn't need to see his face to recognize him, his body alone was a dead give away. He sighed, and focused his thoughts on trying to find clothes to conceal that body.

The guest room's closet was a good mix of formal and casual stuff. But even the casual stuff didn't feel casual, looking at the all designer items made of fine knits and finely woven fabrics he was afraid he will not find anything that could be "Clark" casual: basic pieces that will not stand out preferably loose fitting ones.

There were items that were a size bigger than his which could work. Finally, he found a light blue plaid short sleeve button down shirt and a dark grey pullover. He replaced his shield back onto his chest before putting the pullover on. The most casual pants he could find was a pair of relaxed fit dark blue jeans-- 7 For All Mankind, a brand that he will never buy because of the ridiculous price. He tossed his own things to a small draw string laundry bag, taken from a discretely folded pile for guest use. Clark looked himself over, even with the larger size the clothes still fit his body nicely, the smooth and soft knit hugged his impressive physique. He tousled his hair and made sure his glasses were in place before he came out. He gathered his stuff and walked out to the back to the vast and airy living room area. He didn't see any sign of Bruce although he could hear sounds from a room nearby; the low volume on the TV and somebody on the phone.

"Mr. Wayne?" No answer. "Mr.Wayne?... Bruce?"

Clark shrugged and decided he might as well look around, God only knew how often he would get to be inside one of these multimillion dollar condos - not that it was a big issue for him — with the X-ray vision and all but it's just nice to be legitimately inside one for once.

 

Outside, the spectacular Metropolis sunset was in its full glory; the gray sky mixed with navy and a splotches of orange here and there. Beneath it all was the illuminated Metro- Narrows suspension bridge with its majestic towers and cables, that linked Metropolis to Gotham. Clark always made it a point to fly over this bridge whenever he would come home from somewhere far away.

He walked over to the recessed wall with subdued focused lighting in the corner that he had noticed earlier coming in. It was a group of black and white pictures; 5x7 in black nickel frames. Buildings. Places. People. There was a picture of a dark haired man and a dark brown haired woman, though both were dressed in black formal clothes the picture was a casual shot of them just looking at each other smiling seemingly oblivious to the world around them. Clark recognized them as Thomas and Martha Wayne. Another one said Thomas Wayne Foundation on its small plaque; it showed a long low building and a striking white haired woman in lab coat standing in front of it; the next one was the Martha Wayne Foundation -- it had an impressive red bricked building in the background and Bruce Wayne standing next to a playground with kids; in the middle of it all was Wayne Tower -- Metropolis, the picture had a distinguished looking, tall silver-haired black man; Bruce Wayne and 10 other people in suits all smiling warmly at the camera and a small plaque with a date: June 14, 2013.

Clark's chest suddenly felt heavy as he thought about the significance of this wall. The pictures, the people, pulled him back to that day. A memory came unbidden. Once again he was there, he could hear the sickening roar of the concrete around him, a destructive force given life as the support structures bent and broke. Concrete, metal, wood all caught up in the collapsing vortex. The curse of his eidetic memory brought back the exact time it happened -- Zod's heat vision had kicked in at full strength, unrestrained, as hot as the sun's surface. Its unmitigated power slicing through the concrete and steel of the 50 story building like a heated knife through butter. Once again he could hear the screams that day, every each one of them and once again he felt the helplessness when he heard them silenced by tons of falling debris...

_"Clark... Clark?"_

"Clark!" Somebody had grasped his shoulder shaking him. He blinked and Bruce Wayne's face came into focus.

"Hey, are you ok?"

"I'm fine... sorry ...I was just looking at ...." He gestured towards the wall,"I'm sorry--"

"Yes, I heard you." Bruce frowned at him. "Clark, were you in Metropolis during the attack," he asked gently his hand not leaving his shoulder.

Attack. Clark winced at the word. "Yes," he said in a low voice, he could not look at Bruce. What the hell was he doing here? He clutched the strap of his messenger bag."I...I need to go. Thanks again, Mr. Wayne...Bruce." He twisted away from Bruce's hand as he headed towards the door.

"Clark."

  
_Go now. GO! He can't super speed. Shit!_ Almost a thousand feet of floor space was a lot to get through just to reach the damn door.

"Clark! Stop!"The hand on his shoulder once again. He stopped just short of the front door, knowing full well if he didn't he could possibly pull out Bruce's arm off its socket and break the door.

"Damn it! Kid! Stop! Please," Clark sighed and stopped, head down. Bruce released his shoulder.

"Come here." Bruce grasp his elbow to steer him away from the door.

"Sorry, I really need to go." He started to walk again. Bruce did not let go of his elbow.

Clark paused. "Bruce let me go."

"No! You're obviously upset. Stay!"

Clark started walking again. Bruce tried pulling him back. Clark shook him off using only the slightest strength, Bruce staggered back, puzzled for a moment then he quickly regained his footing and went after Clark again.

"Clark. Fuck. Stop!"

He stood directly in Clark's path, blocking him. Clark stopped walking and was about to move around Bruce, secret be damned, when the taller man reached over and cupped his face in his hands and held him. His eyes practically searing through Clark's skull.  
Clark felt his brain short circuit.

"What--?"

Bruce kissed him, a hard, fierce kiss.

He blinked, awkward and wide-eyed. Bruce lifted his head, dark eyes fixed on him. Time started again. Clark's hands travelled up to Bruce' s neck and face this time he pulled him to him, kissing him back, all open mouth and needy stealing the taste of Bruce's tongue --bittersweet brandy and grapes.

Bruce pulled back his breaths ragged, not letting Clark go, "Clark, I know."

"You know?" He gasped back.

"That it takes a lot. You will always feel you could have done something different, something better."

He paused, steeling himself for what he was about to say, "I lost 458 people that day," he spoke with words slow and measured, his eyes somber.

"I didn't know most of them. To them I was just that far off figure they point at—“ the owner" and the reality is that they were people who worked for me. People who came to work every morning in my building and all they wanted to do was do their job and go home but that day ..." his jaws clenched. "That day—they died coming to work for me and there was jack shit I could do about it," he said in a low voice seething with anger.

Clark dipped his head and quelled the apology he was about to give, somehow it didn't seem _right_ , it didn't seem _enough_ , he looked at him in the eyes, "If I could find a way to go back and fix everything for everyone, for you Bruce, I would."

Bruce held him tight, grasping his shoulders, afraid Clark might run again. Clark saw the pain and rage brimming behind his eyes. _God, it's like looking into a mirror. I had to make a choice between Earth and Krypton and even though I chose Earth, Earth still suffered for it._

"Is that why you write those stories? They took somebody from you too, and now you're just hoping that somehow you can make it right."

Clark's mouth suddenly just went dry and he felt sick to his stomach, "Yes and like you everyday I wished it could have gone differently. Bruce was right in so many ways. He wanted to tell him the truth but he knew he can't. "The world changed Bruce, then I realized the most important things didn't. Life. Every life matters, yes, even the life of that alien."

As Clark spoke, Bruce found himself drawn to the warmth of his voice, a quiet strength, an earnest belief, of an untainted quality, something about it made you just want to believe too and cling to that. This man intrigued him. He didn't do easy, didn't even try to wheedle a quote or crawl into bed with him. He of course did his research on him— Clark wrote articles about regular people, human interests stories, not really considered popular. He wrote about the struggles they go through. The story the third generation diner owner that served the commuting employees in the business district as he tried to rebuild. The ferry boat captain that helped during evacuations. The search and rescue dog and his owner who worked 16 to 20 hour shifts after the event. Even his thoughts on Batman, Bruce was beginning to see where they came from. Bruce felt he really wanted to make a difference and seeing people hurt then recover like that moved him genuinely.

"It's not that simple, kid."

"When is the world ever simple, Bruce. But you have to start somewhere."

"Ok, here's something simple. Don't go." He said in a low voice as he tilted his head and kissed him again.

But pain is never simple but maybe just once maybe he can make his pain go away, he thought. "I won't." Clark let go of his bags and they fell with a soft thud on the floor.

He leaned towards Bruce meeting his lips. They kissed again this time gentle and slow almost hesitant. They mapped each other's mouths, tasting each other. Bruce pulled back with those dark, searching eyes, Clark saw something flicker in them as if he made up his mind about something.

Bruce came down in his mouth sucking his lips then pushing his tongue in as he held Clark's head between his hands, pressing against him, backing him against the wall behind them. Clark felt heat rush through him, a part of him had to check to make sure his heat vision would not kick in because that would be awkward. He felt he was broken open, making noises into his mouth that seemed to provoke Bruce more, the onslaught of Bruce's mouth became more raw and aggressive. Clark responded just as hungrily, his hands clutched at Bruce's strong shoulders. Bruce's hands roamed Clark's body, he grasped Clark's ass eliciting a hard moan from him. Bruce's hands began climbing up --firm, hot dizzying touches up to his waist.

"God, you feel great," he murmured as a hand began to skim towards his chest....

Clark drew away from him abruptly, his voice a hoarse whisper, "I'll make you feel even better." Clark dropped down to his knees and made short work of Bruce's belt. Bruce saw his pants drop to the floor. Shit.

"Clark, you don't have to --"

"I want to... nice boxers," Clark murmured appreciatively.

Bruce made a groaning sound as Clark mouthed his bulge through the black silk, damp and warm. He couldn't help but rut against the wet friction. Bruce's fingers carded through his dark hair. Hair that's short, black and surprisingly curly and very soft. Suddenly Bruce felt weak kneed inadvertently using the wall for support for Clark had taken his cock and was now sucking him. His mouth, warm, wet with all tight suction and filthy little noises, while firm and strong hands kneaded his ass. Bruce just closed his eyes, making choked noises and grunts as he tried to stem the loud helpless noise that was threatening to erupt. Bruce struggled to keep his breaths under control attempting to gain purchase. It's been along time since he had someone like this exciting, unpredictable, unpracticed. Clark was clearly not experienced but he made up for it with earnestness.

"Clark... Clark..." Bruce whimpered as he clutched Clark's head his fingers digging into his scalp. God, he won't last long with this. Mercifully Clark released him with a soft plop, his cock large and moist with spit.

"Come here,come here." He pulled up Clark close to him by his shoulders. God. This boy looked so beautiful with his messy hair and lips wet with his precome and spit, and his glasses all fogged up. He placed a hand on his waist and kissed him tasting himself in Clark's mouth.

"I want to fuck you so bad, right now," his voice rasped against Clark' s lips.

Clark smiled against his mouth and did not speak, he just let go and walked slowly towards the very spacious couch in the corner. He took off his pullover, then unbuttoned his shirt but didn't take it off. Next he removed his pants keeping his eyes on Bruce. Standing there partly concealed by the shadows, he saw Bruce, watching him with need and longing. He slipped off his dark blue boxers and his erect cock sprang free. He laid down on the couch, strong muscled legs wide apart. He licked his lips and gave his cock a slow tug as he waited.

Bruce swore under his breath at the sight. He stepped out of his pants then grabbed a packet of slick and condoms inside one of the side tables.

"You keep them there,"said Clark, with a slight incredulous tone.

Bruce just grinned at him wolfishly, magnificent in his long sleeved dress shirt and boxers. All broad muscles and power as he stalked towards Clark.

Do you mind?" Clark waved towards the large windows with one hand while he stroked himself lazily with the other.

Bruce huffed. "Shades," he called out.

The large window blinds started coming down noiselessly. As Bruce stood over him his eyes raked over the reporter it made Clark feel so open and vulnerable. It was kindling underneath Clark’s skin. His heart thudded against his chest loud and fast. A time for self recrimination will surely come but right now he is going to have sex with Bruce Wayne, the man who really hates his guts.

"Kid, what the hell are you doing to me?"

"Not really sure... So what are you waiting for?" Clark wriggled out of his shirt then encircled his arms around Bruce and pulled him down, effectively silencing all the little voices in his head.

"Better." Bruce said as he sucked at the soft flesh of Clark's neck while his hands slid all over, thrilled at all the hard muscles he mapped with his hands.

"Jesus, I should've gotten you naked earlier." He pushed himself further into Clark, digging his knees into the couch.

Clark wrapped his legs around him. They kissed and pressed and rubbed against each other for a while like horny teenagers. Bruce usually sure now unsure of himself, Clark was so different from the others, the way he was drawn to him and the way he felt so good under him. As he slid into Clark, stretching him and filling him, he could feel Clark's gaze in the dark never letting go of him, it challenged and excited him.

"God, you are so tight!"

"Ahhh, yess... Bruce!" He gasped as his legs shook. Bruce's thick long length inside him elicited both pain and pleasure. His aroused, sensitive senses magnified each slightest friction as Bruce drove his cock forward. Clark moaned hard, squeezed his eyes tight and tossed his head back, exposing a long column of strong neck and sculptured jawline. Bruce bent his head to kiss him there, then nipped and sucked his way to his collarbone and chest.

Bruce increased his pace as he pistoned in and out keeping rhythm as his hand curled around Clark's thick cock, stroking him roughly. Bruce pushed inside him one more time and Clark just lost it, shooting his load all over his chest and Bruce's hand, he was sure he floated a couple of inches off the sofa when he came.

After a couple of minutes, Clark felt Bruce's climax inside him. He moaned and grunted as his whole body shuddered. He pulled out of Clark carefully holding onto the condom, with a sigh he tied it and tossed it to the floor. He collapsed on the narrow space next to Clark, a leg over him. They laid there for a moment breathing heavily. The air between them thick with the smell of sweat and cum.

Clark turned to his side facing him and brushed a kiss on his lips. Cum from his skin stuck to Bruce's shirt. "Sorry,"

"Kid, you're lucky your hot. The dry cleaners though..."

Clark ducked his head and blushed. Bruce snorted and tsked, "Jesus, Kent after all that, really?"

Clark adjusted his glasses and grinned, "Hmm.. I'm just going to use the bathroom." He fished out his shirt stuck between the pillows and slipped it on.

"Fine. Just leave me here."

He gave Clark's butt a healthy slap as he moved away from him noting once again how it was all hard muscles and smooth skin. Clark laughed and picked up his pants from the floor. Bruce watched him with half lidded eyes as he leaned back, he had to be careful with this one. Shit! he felt himself getting hard again just watching him walk away, half naked with the material of the shirt deliciously brushing the skin of his bare and exceptional ass. That ass, he could just bury himself in over and over again.

In the shower, Clark stuck himself under the strongest water setting, unable to ignore the heavy twisting feeling in his gut, he didn't even know what to think anymore. After he showered he replaced the shield on his chest, he was able to remove it and quietly slip it into his pants pocket as he sucked Bruce off. He dressed once more with the pullover and pants and wandered back into the living room. Bruce was still sprawled on the sofa, he could see him holding his phone.

"Give me your number, so I can text you my number."

Clark gave him his number. The text alert buzzed on Clark's phone, he gave him a wink,"Yeah, definitely less work than following me."

"Was I that obvious?"

"Investigative journalist, thank you very much, Sir. And you weren't even trying hard."

Clark grinned and Bruce allowed a smile to tug at his lips. Bruce sat up and gave him a look, making no effort to cover himself. "I'm going to bed now, you're welcomed to stay."

"Ohh, sorry...I really need to go home. And the clothes ... I'll send them back." God! Another apology.

"I'll have James drive you home."

"No you don't have to. Really it's ok."

"Its really no trouble Clark."

"Bruce it's fine."

" _I_ can drive you home."

That sent Clark laughing again. A laugh that made Bruce's inside twitch. "You're tired."

"Give me a couple of minutes. I'll show you tired." A wicked gleam touched Bruce's eyes.

Clark just turned away, then ducked his head again. He picked up his bag from the floor. He stood there for a minute then placed his hands on his pocket and shifted on his heels. Waiting.

"Ok," Bruce dismissed. "Just ask for your bicycle at the front desk ... and Clark?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't stop what you're doing, for the paper."

"I don't intend to."

"Are you ok? Do you need anything?"

"Bruce, I'm fine. Really."

"Wow! Ok, then."

"Goodbye, Bruce."

Later in the dark of Clark's small apartment, dressed in his Superman suit, Clark held his phone. He tapped it and Bruce's number filled the screen, he tapped again at the "Edit" button. He sighed and hit "Delete." In a blink he sped out of his apartment too fast to be perceived except as a brief breeze. He shot up high above Metropolis' stratosphere, his sight turned towards a man sitting inside his apartment alone. He focused his vision and saw Bruce's face in profile head bent as he looked down on his smartphone. After a minute he shot across the sky.

When Clark stepped out the door Bruce realized how he didn't even ask to see him again. Shaking his head at how he even let this thought cross his mind, he grabbed his phone.

"Alfred."

"Yes, Sir."

"I'm coming home tonight."

There was an extremely long pause in the end. "The new penthouse did not work out for you, Sir?"

"Alfred. Just... stop. Please."

\---------------------------  
Bruce returned to Gotham later that night. Clark's reaction to his memorial wall clutched something within him. This almost Sisyphean task that he had laid out for himself will not be pointless. It was for those that he lost, it was for also for people like Clark.  
Bruce glared at the spectroscopy analysis on the screen before him, cross-referencing it to a dynamic model in another screen. The heat shield was still not binding with the compound.

"Intense glaring doesn't help Sir; but eating might, something can be said about glucose deprived brain cells."

"Alfred, the heat shielding is not binding, if I'm going to do this I need to survive being burnt to a crisp."

"Survive? Sir?"

"At least for ten minutes."

"Oh, my! Realistic goals. Now, this doesn't have anything to do with that new penthouse, does it?"

"Alfred.."

"You really need to eat, you are not you anymore."

Bruce did not let Alfred's snide admonishment distract him. His friend and butler had made it perfectly clear of what he thought of the idea of waging war against the alien called Superman.  
______________________

Five Days Later

The needle of the speedometer hovered at 200 mph. The Batmobile raced through the Gotham night in pursuit of a heavily armed crew in an armored modified van. They had stolen a cache of Kryptonian objects recovered from the attack that the government had entrusted to Wayne Labs for study. Batman could see that they were headed towards the water. He had to get to them before they reached the bridge.

There was a ping on his console, Alfred appeared in a small screen by the controls, "Sir, if I may, you have a text message."

"Alfred, now is not the time." He grunted as he swerved to avoid a crashed car.

"Well, Sir, I thought you might want to take this -- it's from a Clark Kent," the Batmobile almost slipped but he quickly regained control.

"It says --- Hey! When are you coming to Metropolis again?" Alfred's distinguished voice made it sound that he was quoting Shakespeare. "By the way Sir the "are" and "you" are spelled out as actual words." This was Alfred's version of linguistic approval.

Bruce suddenly felt warmer in his armor. "Thank you, Alfred."

"Would you be requiring assistance, Sir?"

"Not right now."

"Very well."

Paying no heed to anything that happened to be in their path the mercenaries barreled  through the Gotham streets leaving a behind trail of crashed vehicles and property damage that made it even more challenging for the Batmobile to get closer. They were also shooting from high powered automatic rifles, whenever the Batmobile was getting close, they unleashed a barrage at cars and pedestrians essentially holding everyone in their path hostage. Batman grunted in frustration he had made a tactical error when he decided this was a ground operation.

The Batmobile weaved through the lanes of traffic of as it neared the bridge, even at 2 am there was still moderate traffic. Batman's vehicle navigation system alerted him of the narrowing traffic on the Gotham spur, due to bridge construction. It was clear that the van had no intention of slowing down. The armored van lost control as it tried to avoid the stalled cars, it skidded directly into the vehicles. Batman launched the power winch from the Batmobile, controlling the van's skid.

However, a full size pick up truck was coming down from the highway branch seemingly unaware of the slow down. The driver of the truck panicked when he saw the van directly in front of his path and slammed on the brakes putting it into a fatal skid. Three tons of steel spun over a 100 miles an hour and barreled into a Greyhound bus in the next lane. It impacted like a rocket, pushing the bus at such a high speed it plowed through the vehicles in its path like mere tin cans. The armored van had stopped. Inside the van most of the armed mercenaries have started to get out.

"Fuck! Lawton! We're bailing!" shouted one of the men.

"Idiots!"

Five black clad men jumped out abandoning the van and everything they fought to steal. The driver was passed out in front of the air bags. Before the fleeing group got ten feet away, they heard something hit the van roof behind them, a large black figure loomed over them. There was whoosh followed by soft thwucks. Five of the fleeing figures fell immediately on the asphalt from anesthesia pellets. Lawton was the last to get out, he grabbed a large black case before ducking out of the van. With all the confusion nobody noticed him until he had clambered off a steel girder at the side of the bridge.

"He's jumping!" someone screamed. Without any hesitation Lawton leaped off the bridge .

Bruce swore under his breath and was about to jump after Lawton, when he saw that the Greyhound bus had been launched above the steel girders and was now teetering precariously over the water. Lawton clung to a steel beam under the bridge, satisfied he wasn't followed, he swung down to a waiting raft.

It was sheer chaos and panic. People running and screaming, confused, cars stopped everywhere with at least two car fires burning. In the middle of all this a bus load of elderly people coming from a casino trip was about to fall 300 feet below into the frigid waters of the bay.

Batman jumped back into his car via the moon roof. He released the power winch from the van then shot it to the bus to anchor it, however the steel girder had began to bend. Metal groaned miserably when the entire bus lurched forward to an almost vertical position on the side of the bridge, held down only by a slim cable from the Bat mobile.

Bruce could hear the screams and sobs intensifying from the bus then suddenly something broke the windshield, two people fell out hurtling down to the water below. More screams came from the crowd. A chill gripped Bruce's insides but with his unwavering focus he continued to work on "reeling" in the bus.

Suddenly there was an excited murmur amongst the crowd. A red cape billowed above the water and suspended securely in mid air were the two passengers. You couldn't see him, it almost seemed that they were being brought down by some angel, the emergency floodlights bathed his body with bright white light as he floated down. As soon as he touched down he handed the two to the waiting hands of the EMS personnel. After a brief thank you to the EMS, he whipped up and picked up the suspended bus and angled it safely onto the bridge.

Batman watched inside the car as all of this was taking place. Superman calmly unhooked his grapple. Batman could see the strong lines of his body, his suit a second skin hugging every muscle and bulge he had. He turned towards Batman sideways with a brief smile and a wave giving him another view of his perfectly formed buttocks, barely covered by his cape that the air around him teased. Quickly he put out the car fires with his super breath. Once again he turned his attention to the van and in super-speed moved the driver outside to one of the waiting ambulances. He took to the sky and somehow hoisted the van with him, in minutes he was barely a dot in the horizon.

Batman silently cursed himself once again for not using the jet in the first place. As he sat there seething watching the alien take away the Kryptonian tech he couldn't ignore the fact that he was also angry as something distracting had started to bloom in his stomach.

 

Three days later Bruce Wayne met with Lex Luthor in his lab. Lex Luthor looking more like a 12 year old in sneakers and jeans than the owner of a company with a net worth close to 10 billion.

"There you are! Looking all Alpha male." Lex playfully patted his jacket lapels knowing full well he was annoying the taller man. " Maybe I should start wearing those suits. "Who's your tailor?"

Bruce just gave him a sullen look.

"Never mind. Mercy will find out for me." He paused and ran his finger into his long wavy hair, "My tech works Bruce," he announced solemnly.

"Really, now. That's not because you've been stealing tech to develop your tech, isn't it?"

"You and your little government contracts. Bruce, that kind of thinking should be beneath you.Think outside of Pandora's box. We are in the front lines, Bruce! And we will be ready!"

"You have a working prototype? Stable?"

"What kind of question is that?" Lex blinked at him several times, clearly not pleased with the question. "Our end is almost done." 

"Fine. Let me see what you have.”

_____________________________________

“Lois, I can't believe you talked me into this.”

“Clark, honey. I don't need to talk you into anything, it's your overwhelming love plus guilt.” Lois said, smirking at Clark.

They were walking down the hallway of Wayne Labs as part of the press tour group that was granted an exclusive though limited access to the lab facilities of Wayne Enterprises.

The attempted robbery of the Kryptonian artifacts three days ago was big news. It raised a lot of questions about security, government accountability and of course what exactly was Wayne tech hiding. A lot of the uproar also stemmed from the fact that Batman was involved and also that the cache was not in government hands anymore but in Superman’s.

Bruce Wayne was giving a short press conference and a tour. Clark really had zero interest in going there as Clark, Bruce did not return his text. He thought he had prepared himself for that, but it still stung. Lois who he told about what happened to him and Bruce basically told him to just grow a spine, after a series of lectures that involved the following: “What the hell were you thinking— this man hates Superman—- Clark please tell me you have better judgment that this—I'm telling your mother ..."

“You are coming with me. I might get "lost" and if I get caught you can just bat those baby blues at him."

“No.”

“You mean, Yes… you could “see” what else is there.”

“Lois, please you know very well if _someone_ needed to investigate something he won’t be dragging _certain_ people with them."

In the end Lois won, because she knew he couldn't possibly let her go there alone knowing what she was perfectly capable of doing.

Everyone settled down as soon as Bruce Wayne took his place on the dais. The CEO scanned the room his eyes briefly settled on Clark and Lois before speaking.

“Thank you all for coming. I don't want to waste anyone’s time especially mine.” A light laughter spread through the crowd. “It is unfortunate that there are people that will always be after the monetary gain from an event that claimed so many lives. We here at Wayne Enterprises have always endeavored for a better society. We are proud that the government had trusted us to keep these objects safe and investigate any potential uses for the advancement of our world. We are working with law enforcement to bring those responsible to justice as well as further tightening our security systems to prevent this from happening again. Now for the more science-cy stuff let me introduce Dr. Shay Veritas, our lead biochemical engineer“

“Mr. Wayne…Mr.Wayne” The room interrupted into chaos as reporters tried to get their questions in before he could leave. Bruce Wayne threw another wave at the room before he left through a side door.

A tall dark skinned woman with blond hair stepped up to the podium. "I'm Dr. Shay Veritas I stand by the good work that we do here in Wayne Enterprises. Please follow me for the tour. And may just remind I am not as patient as Mr. Wayne and we have excellent lawyers." She smiled sweetly but everyone in the crowd knew she wasn't kidding.

"I like her." Lois beamed. That smile she reserved when she finds someone or something particularly worthwhile to sink her teeth into.

They followed her down a hallway, pass through several fire doors through a large open hangar type area, divided into several glass walled partitions. In several of them, were biohazard suited scientists and a large array of computers and lab equipment. Lois sidled up closer to Dr. Shay Veritas and began to ask her questions.

Clark shuffled along the hallway. After the attacks he had tried to recover as much Kryptonian objects especially tech, he did not recover everything yet. He did not want to go on a tug of war with the government with the stuff they had under their possession. So when the incident at the bridge happened it was a good opportunity to be able to retrieve some of them. This was also a good opportunity to just see what else they have and what they were working on. Somehow there was an large amount of lead shielding in this area. Lead was the one substance that worked against his X-ray vision. He stood on the side his senses on "full scan mode."  
He was so focused on looking at the other end of the complex, he almost missed the fact that somebody was about to yank him by his arm. Instinctively he relaxed his body not wanting this person to dislocate a wrist or something. He got pulled into a hidden corner.

"Hello. Clark."

He shook his head in disbelief. "Hi! Bruce what's with the sneaking around?" He eyed the hand curled tightly around his arm. Bruce did not let go yet, also he was standing very close, his chest almost touching Clark.

"I wanted to speak to you away from them. Sorry I wasn't able to get back to you about the text, it's been crazy lately and I really wanted you to personally know it wasn't a brush off."

"Usually people just text back Bruce" He couldn't keep the sarcasm off his tone.

"Yeah, but I thought this would be better."

"Wait! you organized a whole press con just to see me?"

"Well, I wanted to make sure you'd come." Bruce said a matter of factly like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

" Alright I'm here," Clark said, he felt flattered though slightly unhinged by Bruce's style, but ok whatever.

"I want to have dinner with you tonight."

 

Bruce picked him up from his apartment at 8pm, this time driving a "less" attention grabbing black Tesla.

Inside the car Bruce announced that he decided to eschew any restaurant because "I can have anything delivered anyway, Alfred just sets up everything" then he winked at Clark, "We can skip to dessert whenever we want." Alfred, Bruce had explained was his long suffering butler.

Inside a whole meal was already set up by the concierge in the casual yet elegant dining room complete with a cold selection of wine and beer. Bruce explained everything was from this place that served fantastic burgers called the Red Cat.

"Fancy burgers, damn," Clark said after a large bite.

"Well, I wanted to impress you. You being cool like that not calling, not texting me for five days,"

You gotta hand it to this guy, he doesn't mess around, "Bruce, you have a phone, damn it like a whole freakin' satellite system, if you were interested you could do those things too."

"Listen, kid I never call first."

"Ego much?" Clark put down his burger and took a swig of beer."I'm not really sure what I'm doing here now, I'll take the burgers to go, you know struggling journalist and all."

He stood and put his jacket on. He took another mouthful of beer not that it really mattered, maybe it'll wash off the taste of bile in his mouth. Bruce just stared at the drink in his hands.

"Clark. Clark! Stop!" He heard the door close before he could turn his head.  
He stood up and turned towards the door, ”You're still here," he said, surprised.

Clark Kent was leaning against a closed door a hand in his pocket, holding his beer. "You are such a drama queen," he said under his breath.

For the first time in a long time, Bruce didn't know which way was up. This kid, this reporter challenged him, gotten under his skin like one of Poison Ivy's toxins—a drug, an addictive drug—dangerous. But still despite everything he didn't deserve his "Bruce-ness".

"I could start with I'm sorry, but--"

Clark looked at him sharply before he could continue.

"Ok..ok can we at least sit down. I'm too old to do all this running."

They both sat down at the dining table. "There are things going on right now in my life and you're a distraction and I'm very much distracted, and hell, I haven't been distracted like this for a long time."

"News Flash -- I'm distracting Bruce Wayne. I should put that in my Tinder profile."

“Wait you're on Tinder?” Clark gave him a withering look. Bruce sighed heavily, “Ok, honestly I don't know what to do with you."

Clark looked at him stunned for a while,"Usual first date stuff and by the way you are as crazy as my pet rooster Huckles."

"You had a rooster named Huckles."

"Yes, sir and a pig named Ben. Huckles was a fussy thing, too. Whenever we let Huckles out he'd just attack Ben for no reason. They chased each other around the yard. Me and my dad would laugh about it silly. Quality entertainment right there." Clark's eyes drifted off in a distance.

"Geez Clark, you grew up in a Norman Rockwell painting." Bruce said wistfully as he leaned over, his knees touched Clark.

"Funny, I don't think Norman Rockwell had this in mind," Clark slid in and grazed his thigh against his. Bruce looked down and drew a sharp intake of breath and looked Clark with hot eyes a slight shiver ran through his body.

"I want --" Bruce gritted out.

"Tell me Bruce." Clark said under his breath held in place by Bruce's eyes.

Bruce abruptly stood up and slowly poured wine in a glass and drank. Clark watched him and listened. The cadence of Bruce's heartbeat picked up. "Come here." he said with a slight tremble in his voice.

Clark stood up, uncoiled from his chair like a loaded spring, he moved closer to Bruce, raising his chin so he can keep his eyes locked with him. Aware of the blood buzzing under his skin, he carefully controlled his own breaths. He stopped right in front of him close enough till Bruce could feel the warm exhale of from his face.

"Unbutton your shirt,"he said in a low voice.

Clark untucked his shirt and unbuttoned it, his fingers shook slightly, he was thrilled at the way Bruce's dark eyes were on him---

"Stop."

Clark's fingers stopped two buttons down. He raised his head expectantly. Bruce pushed Clark against the wall his body pressed on him. He ran his large powerful hands from his shoulders down to his wrist and roughly twisted one arm behind him, while holding the other above his head, pressed hard against the wall with the elbow bent. His midnight blue irises ringed large dilated pupils.

"Bruce," Clark breathed out, excited by Bruce's raw power. Of course, this does not hurt him and he could easily let go. But every nerve in his being is lit up and his aroused state made him more sensitive to every pressure, to every touch to everything Bruce.

The taller man easily held him. "Like this, Clark, like this..."

"Yes, Bruce...Yes," he arched his back, tugging against Bruce. Bruce pulled against him, as his grip hardened.

He leaned down and kissed him fiercely, Clark opened up to him greedy and licked into his mouth. Bruce sucked Clark's tongue, his lower teeth scraping rough against Clark's smooth lips.

Bruce lifts up his head, panting, "Bedroom." He backs Clark up a couple of feet, still holding an arm behind him while kissing him. Bruce somehow found the door and opened it.

He backed him to the edge of the bed barely losing contact. Bruce pulled down Clark's button shirt behind him forcefully. Clark shifted to take it off but Bruce clutched his arms tight.

"Keep it there," he growled.

Clark's looked at him with pupils blown. The pulled down shirt was tight across his back, the cuffs of the shirt tight against his wrist.

He started to say, "I could rip--"

"Don't," his voice was low and forceful."Stay like this."

Bruce placed a hand on chest and pushed him. Clark landed on the soft bed. The cool sheets a welcome respite against the heat of his skin. He toed his shoes letting them drop on the side. Bruce stood by the side and quickly removed everything except his boxers.

Clark watched him with lips partly open, he swallowed at the sight of the bulge of Bruce's boxers.

Bruce bent over him with his knees on the bed. He let his hands drag across the muscled shoulders as they stretch the shirt's material, Clark's chest all marble beneath the dark chest hair. Bruce ran his thumb over the over sensitive nipples as he trailed a hot tongue on his belly. Clark arched over the bed, writhing while Bruce unbuttoned his pants —-

_**"Capitol city tower..this is 0325. Smoke in the cockpit....Engines 3 and 4 not responding ....Mayday...Mayday.."** _

"Shit!!"

Clark's shirt ripped and he sat up so fast he knocked Bruce off the bed.

"What the fuck Kent!!"

Clark held his shirt and picked up his shoes, "So, sorry...it's not you. I have to go."

By the time Bruce got up to run after Clark, the apartment was empty with the front door ajar.

Somewhere in the distance he heard what sounded like an explosion over the sky.  
Somewhere, Clark had broken the sound barrier in seconds as he shot straight to the upper atmosphere, as he reentered the earth at a safe speed, his trajectory arcing towards the disabled plane, he had no doubt he was absolutely thoroughly fucked.

______________________________

 

Author's Note:

For the "physics" of Supes' flying, Google "How fast can Superman fly?"

I can't even tell you guys how often I had to check myself that I'm actually writing the names Clark and Bruce and not Ben and Henry...haha

My Tumblr: cryptmirror


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry the took a while. But its here now so Thank You All for being patient.
> 
> So I am using BvS as an outline for this fic. But I've borrowed from other media in the DCU. I actually read the prequel comics, I thought they were cool so I'm also borrowing from there.
> 
> I've included one of Clark's more esoteric powers courtesy of Grant Morrison's Action Comics #12 New 52. It also features this cool scene between Bats and Supes -- Bats putting Bats Bugs on Clark.
> 
> Yes, I'm ripping off the whole THEN and NOW thing from Peter Clines.
> 
> [Albilibertea’s Art](http://drenched-in-sunlight.tumblr.com/image/143836970255) Thank you so much for the beautiful art you made for this fic. Guys y'all should check out her Tumblr for amazing SuperBat art.  
>  
> 
> To Jen: Thanks for Beta and for all the advice. All the quirkiness and mistakes are mine.

Chapter 3 Hold Me Fast

  

**THEN**

 

"WE HAVE a theory."

 

"You better, “groused General Swanwick. In his opinion they were all playing like fucking princesses. Nobody wanted to meet in Washington. Metropolis was definitely out of the question. Gotham "was not fair." Central City " was not neutral" whatever that meant.

 

Everyone agreed that California "would be fine." The two scientists only agreed if all transportation and hotel arrangements were made and paid for them.

 

It's was a fucking five way with nobody willing to put out, General Swanwick thought miserably. Trying to make them happy was the only reason he was here in Los Angeles. He was the “official” military presence. The whole rodeo was being run by Amanda Waller supposedly from Homeland Security. The pressure was on. Eight months after the attacks Waller was able to wrangle these scientists. From what he heard it took a lot of convincing for them to even agree to a meeting. Convincing people was Waller’s department. He scoffed --- if she was Homeland Security, then he was the Easter Bunny.

 

He scanned the room. There was a low dais at the front of the room with a long table and chairs. Amanda Waller sat there, along with the two scientists. Dr. Harrison Wells the physicist and current director of S.T.A.R labs and Dr. Kimiyo Hoshi the astrophysicist from the University of Tokyo. In front of them in another table sat Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor. The sight of them irritated him, two of the biggest defense contractors. Between the two of them was close to ten billion dollars’ worth of defense contracts. Through some” special” negotiations only these two were allowed to sit at this meeting. Rumors were floating around about Wayne absorbing Kord Industries – another player in the defense field. There were some mooks from the Department of Defense in another table and of course him settled in a corner of the room away from everyone’s line of sight.

 

Everybody in the room settled at attention at Dr. Wells’ words. Even Lex Luthor seemed to have stopped twitching. Bruce Wayne leaned back. Dr. Kimiyo Hoshi punched some keys on her laptop to adjust the images on the conference room's screen.

 

Dr. Harrison Wells, adjusted his glasses. "Dr. Hoshi, aside from consulting with STAR labs, helped launched NASA’s Chandra. Chandra is NASA’s X-ray Observatory. It is a telescope designed to detect X-ray emissions from hot regions of the Universe, combined with the data from Hubble she was able to postulate the location of Krypton’s star system.”

 

Harrison Wells studied the group before him and he was quite sure he didn’t lose them. He did use small words like he was told as he tried to encapsulate in very simple terms his and Dr. Hoshi’s work.

 

“We also studied the satellite data when the terraforming engine in the Indian Ocean worked in concert with the ship in Metropolis. As you know the ship in Metropolis collapsed into a singularity. Meanwhile, the engine over the Indian Ocean was destroyed by our friend here. But before that, this thing fought him." He tapped a blurred image. “We were able to obtain certain metrics right before its destruction. Energy fluctuations and specifically how it affected Superman.”

  

"We believe we have a way to duplicate the frequency of the energy output. And with Dr. Hoshi's research we now know that the Kryptonian's star system had a red sun as opposed to our yellow sun. Per our calculations a planet with a red sun gravitational and energy signatures that bothered our friend here." Dr. Wells paused before continuing letting the implications of his statement sink in.

 

"We can bring a god down," Lex Luthor said under his breath.

 

Lex Luthor's words were not lost on Bruce Wayne, he leaned forward casually and affected a look of disdain and boredom,” This is all very interesting, I’ll have my R&D people meet with you. So, tell me, what do you need?”

 

                                       _________________________

  **NOW**

 

**I.**

 

Two hours later after Clark unceremoniously left him, Bruce sat in his office reviewing schematics on his laptop. The text alert of his smartphone vibrated.

 

   -I know sorry doesn't even begin to cover it 

   -You get back to me two hours after you ditch me mid sex. I must be moving up in Clark’s world.

 

Clark decided to hell with it and promptly dialed Bruce's number. His chest lifted when Bruce picked up.

 

“Bruce, I'm so sorry, can we talk please?" he said. In the background he could hear the news channel reporting on the plane rescue at Capitol City.

 

Bruce was about to say he was he really did not want to be screwed with anymore. But he heard the sincerity in Clark's voice. He sighed and once again wondered why does he let this boy unhinge him, right when he is the middle of things.

 

"Where are you?" He asked, exasperated.

 

"Umm ...outside. The doorman is glaring at me."

 

"Serves you right. I'll tell him to call the cops."

 

"Bruce, _please..."_

_"_ Alright you can come up, but only if you swear to suck my cock until I come and I want you to swallow everything."

 

Silence.

_Shit. Great he probably ran away_.

 

"Kid, I was just kidding." _Or not._

 

Silence.

 

"Clark are you still there?" Bruce hung up and called the lobby. Then he heard the front door bell ring.

 

"Good evening, Sir,” Bob the front door security guard answered.

 

Bruce peered at the external cameras. "Never mind, Bob, Goodnight."

 

"Goodnight, Sir."

 

He pushed a button on his pad and heard the front door open. “I’m here," Clark called out.

 

"He let you in?"

 

Clark stood by the doorway, wearing a smirk, "The guy remembered me from when I picked up my bike. I guess he liked me."

 

"Uh-hu, Ok. So talk," Bruce said firmly, he barely looked up eyes focused on the laptop in front of him.

 

He walked over and sat on the chair across the table, it was like facing the principal or something, "You wouldn't believe this, I got scared," he swallowed slowly as the lie burned within his throat.

 

"You were scared," Bruce said evenly, his dark eyes shot a sharp look at Clark.

 

"Yup." He held Bruce's gaze, unfortunately he had gotten good at this.

 

He paused. "You seemed so into it, Clark. So you're telling me you were ok the first time and then today you got scared. That doesn't make sense."

 

"Well, if you put it that way, it doesn't. Look, the best way I can explain it is that I was a little overwhelmed." Yes, Clark, he scolded himself this is rich using your sexual inexperience as your excuse. At that point he just wished the Earth would just tilt out of orbit.

 

"You could've just said something instead of running out of here like you were on fire."

  

"Yeah, I know, I know." He stood up slowly. "Alright, I'll go now. I just wanted to come here and apologize."

 

"I didn't tell you to leave." Once again not looking up his eyes on the laptop in front of him.

 

"Ok." Clark raised an eyebrow.

 

Bruce worked for a couple of minutes, remaining extremely focused. Clark watched him out of the corner of his eye, he was dressed in black silk loose pants and a loose fitting dark blue short sleeved shirt that still managed to stretch across his muscled chest. Passive aggressive, huh, he can work with that. In the meantime, his eyes roamed around the room, he scanned the books on the tall bookshelf -- all first edition. It included H.G Wells' _A Science of Life_ and interestingly enough also Isaac Asimov's _History of Physics_ \-- Clark filed this away in his head.

 

 Bruce stopped typing then closed his laptop. He looked up and like a large feral cat stood up and strode towards him. The hazel of his eyes ringed the dark pupils as he stood in front Clark. His hands quickly reached behind Clark effectively pining his arms behind him. They stood there just close to each other, breathing in unison, their chests almost touching each other.

 

"Don't you _ever_ do that again." He said low and intense over Clark's lips.

 

Clark tsked softly, a defiant quirk on his lips. He pressed himself closer then tilted his head and ran the tip of his tongue slowly over Bruce's lower lip.

 

Clark's hot tongue sent electricity zipping through Bruce's body. He kissed him greedily as Clark opened up to him, licking and sucking into that wet heat. Bruce pushed against him pulling and clenching Clark’s wrists as he arched against him.

 

Bruce broke the kiss. "Just to make this clear I want to take you to bed now," he gritted out.

 

"Got it. Let's go."

 

Bruce's room was all solid oak, solid lines, masculine and sparse, not unlike the man himself. It was dark except for one muted light from an elegant lamp in the corner.

 

"Clothes off now." He demanded under his breath. They both started taking off their clothes, letting them fall on the floor.

 

"You're bossy."

 

"Yup."

 

"You're not one for first date talk aren't you?"

 

"No."

 

He smirked as he removed his pants. "Bruce Wayne, billionaire. Scorpio. I enjoy sunsets and long walks on the beach and frisky women and men."

 

"I'm not frisky. I can't believe you just quoted Dean Winchester." Clark was down to his boxers. 

 

"You're Clark Joseph Kent. Grew up in Smallville, Kansas. Initially as a kid you were classified as autistic but it was later changed to attention deficit disorder. Graduated from Kansas University after four years of anthropology with a minor in Journalism. Then you freelanced in Burma and Africa. Bummed around for a couple of years, then you started as a stringer in the Daily Planet two years ago after the attacks." Bruce walked around the bed and grabbed condom and lube from the drawer.

 

"Ok, now that's just creepy."

 

Bruce shrugged. “Like you said, I have a satellite. Are we good?" Bruce completely naked settled on a comfortable chair next to the bed, his erect length straining against his belly. His dark eyes roamed Clark's body so expectantly that it made the pressure in Clark's balls just churn, whilst his heart beat inside his chest like a jackhammer.

 

"Jesus kid, that look. Come here," he growled

 

 _Chair, huh…alright he can work with that too_ …

 

Clark stood in front of him his cock tenting his boxers. Bruce tucked a hand under the waistband squeezing his buttocks tight as he pulled them down. Clark scooted his boxers down until he stepped off it leaving them on the floor.

 

"I fucking want you now." Bruce slid an arm around Clark's waist and pulled him down to his lap. Clark obediently straddled him. His senses were going crazy, they sent shivers up and down his spine. He spread his legs wide, he felt his balls slide over Bruce’s length.  Their cocks bumped against each other, Clark began grinding himself against Bruce.

 

They kissed hard and demanding as they rutted against each other, their cocks became wet with precome, "Fuck, you're gonna kill me," Bruce moaned into the kiss then let go as he grabbed the lube next to him, slicking two fingers.

 

He looked into Clark's eyes in a silent question. Clark lifted his hips slightly to acquiesce. Bruce's fingers slid down his back then slipped into his ass. Clark softly gasped at the intrusion, Bruce claimed his mouth again in a fierce kiss as he dragged and pressed his fingers inside his hole.

 

Clark' s body quivered as he moved against the thrust of Bruce's fingers slowly at first savoring each sensation. Then he increased his pace pressing, grinding against Bruce as Bruce drove his fingers in and out of his hole, brushing his prostrate several times. He keened and whimpered as Bruce added another finger. His mouth found Bruce’s he sucked on Bruce’s lips and licked into his mouth, their tongues as hot as the intensity of the moment.

 

"I want you inside me," he groaned against Bruce's mouth.

 

"Shit! kid! Hold on." Bruce grabbed the packet ripping it and rolled the condom on his beautiful thick cock. Clark watched him eagerly, as he positioned himself between Bruce's thighs, an arm holding onto Bruce as he waited.

 

"Ready?" Bruce asked, Clark nodded slowly as he moved to straddle Bruce again. Bruce grasped his hips slowly guiding him.

 

"Hold yourself open for me," Bruce said with quiet intensity, he took Clark's hands expertly guiding them to spread his ass cheeks.

 

"Nice and easy," Bruce coaxed. Clark lowered his body working Bruce into his ass, shifting and moving himself, slowly being immolated by the twin sensations of being stretched and being penetrated. God, it felt amazing.

 

"Ohh...Bruce...Bruce...!" His warm breath rushed over Bruce's ear.

 

"You feel so good, Bruce," he managed, he wanted more, he drove himself onto Bruce's cock harder and deeper, as he tugged at his own cock, his strokes becoming firmer, faster.

 

Bruce hissed. His hand kneaded against Clark's muscled back up on his neck. His fingers curled against his hair pulling his head back roughly. Bruce sucked and bit against that gorgeous neck and sculpted jaw as his hips moved against Clark in some sort of dizzying rhythm that was only theirs. Clark threaded his hand against Bruce's hair as he fucked him harder, every thrust seemed to push the air out of his lungs. The steady strokes of Bruce's thick cock pushed against his prostrate as Bruce dug his fingers against his side. Finally, he bucked, exhaled and grunted loud as his balls tightened. His hand on his dick stroked faster, harder as his release hit his stomach and chest.

 

The crescendo of Bruce's thrusts increased. He gasped as Clark came as his body shuddered against him, his cock jerked and he came hard inside Clark. He panted and leaned against Clark's chest as Clark's strong arms wrapped around him.

 

For a long time, they were just breathing and kissing. Clark made a filthy protesting noise as Bruce carefully slid out of him as became soft, he grasped the used condom in his hand.

 

“Damn.”

 

“The condom?”

 

"Among other things.” He bit his lip before continuing. "Can you stand," Bruce asked carefully, because he felt he certainly could not.

 

Clark gave him an impish smile that made Bruce want to do very bad things to him again. Balancing on his feet he slid off Bruce easily.

 

"Fucking show off!" Despite himself, Bruce grinned.

 

"Sorry, it's all that biking," he gave Bruce another wet kiss before he picked up the discarded condom on the floor.

  

"You didn't have to do that." He protested but who was he kidding he was too fucking spent to care.

  

Clark just shrugged as he sauntered off to the bathroom. He showered quickly then stared at himself in the mirror as he held his glasses, a most uncomfortable thought clawing inside his head that for that very moment he looked so much like Superman, no glasses, hair slicked back. He tousled it further with the towel so his curls would come out. He walked out of the bathroom and saw that Bruce was already under the sheets on the right side of the bed, without any hesitation he slipped into the space next to him.

 

As Clark laid there on his side, his back towards Bruce, he slowly relaxed. He could hear Bruce's slow and steady heart beat as his body shifted.

 

"Good. You're staying," Bruce's sleep tinged voice murmured.

 

Sometime during the night Bruce once again walked that dark alley with his parents. The perfect, round, white pearls of Mother fell on the cold concrete, in loud thuds that echoed against the staccato of gunfire. Father lay on the ground in a pool of blood. While Mother held him tight against her body, something warm dripped on his face and on his clothes; dark and red drip, drip, he looked up--

 

 _Mother_ \--- Mother’s face was gone.

 

_Bruce. I love you Bruce._

He held onto her and squeezed his eyes shut. It was his fault, he wanted to see that movie. Everything ...was his fault...if he didn't ---.

 

_They died because of you, Bruce!_

 

"Bruce! Bruce!" He woke up to strong arms holding him close. In the haze he saw Clark's face.

 

"You're here," he said his voice a hoarse whisper.

 

"I'm here, Bruce. You're safe." The warm baritone voice soothed him as he relaxed further into the warm cocoon. He felt a gentle kiss on his lips and somehow at that moment the world felt right.

 

Bruce woke up after three hours, and immediately felt something was amiss. He could still feel the warmth of the empty space next to him. He remembered being held, and how it felt being held like that. Clark. He laid back and stared at the ceiling, thoughts skittered like ants in his head. He checked his phone. There was a message from Clark.

 

       --Sorry had to leave-- work early.

Bruce thought for a second, and with a smirk texted back. 

 

       --If I give you an exclusive interview. Would that be work?

Conflict of interest, stood out like a bright flashing neon sign in Clark's head, this is as bad as him writing about Superman. But this all started because he wanted to interview him. So?

 

     --Ok, that might work. You’re still here in Metropolis?

  

      --No. 

 

      --Meet you at 3pm?

 

      --Gotham or Metropolis?

      

      --I’m not really sure where I’ll end up. Text you back 

 

      --Sure.

_____________________

"Clark, this is for you." Jenny smiled and handed him an envelope from her cart. She was going around the Daily Planet bullpen delivering mail.

 

"Thanks, Jen."

 

It was lunch time; Clark had settled into his cubicle with his eggplant parm sandwich next to his laptop. He held the envelope, it was a standard 4x6 brown padded envelope simply addressed: Clark Kent Daily Planet.

 

Through his vision he saw a flash drive the shape of a red gummy bear. He fished it out of the envelope, puzzled. To anyone who would see him, it was just Clark Kent lost in thought once again, when in fact he was actually reading the contents of the flash drive without a computer. He didn't know he could do that until he started working in the Daily Planet. One day he was bored and he was just playing around with the range of his enhanced vision. He picked up a flash drive just to study its insides, but as he concentrated, a switch flipped inside his head and he could actually _read_ the compressed information. Needless to say it was very unnerving at first, but then he appreciated how useful it was.

 

It was video clip of the Batman. It was at the waterfront in front of a large freight car, night time of course. Twenty heavily armed men stood around a freight car. Suddenly there was a flash of something bright, obscuring the image. Clark focused his vision in order to see. The Batman attacked like a whirling dervish taking down the men with a minimum of effort guaranteed with maximum effect. A kick here, a punch there and a very efficient use of a retracting grapple that came out of his gauntlet. He slammed bodies into the pavement with such force bones broke on impact. He could hear a group of them fleeing off camera. The Batman turned slightly and pressed something on his belt, suddenly a small yet powerful looking bat shaped jet hovered above him and a grapple dropped from it. He threw something on the freight's lock and it made a small explosion. The doors fell open. Clark was shocked as he saw what was in it. _People._ They stumbled out of the freight at least fifty of them, emaciated, dirty. They drew back when they saw him.

 

"Wait here, help is coming," Batman spoke in Spanish, his speech altered electronically.

 

From a distance Clark could hear police sirens approaching. Batman disappeared upwards via the grapple. The jet canted along the bank of the bay, unleashing machine gun fire on the fleeing vehicles then the video cut out. 

 

"Jenny," he stood up and ran along the corridor to catch up with her. "Did you happen to see who dropped this off?"

 

"I'm sorry, I didn't. It was left in the lobby." She looked at him closely. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah it's fine. Thanks!"

 

Clark stood there for a moment along the hallway, processing everything he just saw. It was disturbing to say the least. His mind sorted through all the information he knew about the Batman comparing it against what he just saw. He returned to his desk and glanced at a copy of the _Gotham Free Press_ with the headline "Bat Brand of Justice" that showed one of the alleged human slave traffickers chained and branded with the bat symbol into his shoulder. 

 

He texted Bruce:  

 

\--I’ll be in Gotham.

 

\--Great. Let me know once you get here.

 

\--Sounds good.

 

Clark arrived at the lobby of Wayne Enterprises as he was told to at 3pm. He was promptly ushered upstairs into Bruce’s office. Clark stood there brown Carhart jacket, plaid shirt and dark brown cords, messenger bag across his body, trying his best to look like a legit investigative reporter, because he certainly did not feel it at that point, seeing Bruce like this and remembering things that they did. Bruce behind his imposing desk light gray long sleeves with dark gray vest, power and money coming out of each pore. The wide window behind him showing the vast expanse of the gothic cityscape of Gotham. The afternoon sun had hidden behind a spire, the subdued lighting a perfect complement to the man, Bruce was as solid as the buildings behind him, as uncompromising as the gargoyles that stood guard over his buildings, as tragic as the history of the city itself.

 

He could not resist the image, though his eidetic memory has catalogued it away, he wanted something tangible. Fishing into his bag he grabbed a small digital camera he always carried around.

 

“May I?”

 

He looked up briefly, “For you or the paper?”

 

“For me mostly.”

 

“You’re lucky you’re hot. I just don’t do this for anyone.”

 

“Thanks, I guess.” He took a couple of pictures. Clark knew they were not bad, he had an eye for these things he was told. But he knew the subject matter helped.

 

“So are those the original gargoyles?” Clark moved closer to the window, he studied the different structures at this vantage point at the 80th floor and observed how the shadows bent around the spires and buttressed structures, so different from Metropolis with its square and sharp angles.  One day he should do a flyby through these city canyons. The Batman might take issue with that, oh well.

 

Bruce came up behind him. “Most of it, whatever was not destroyed is 85 years old. We do have to retouch their noses every couple of decades.”

 

“Wonder if the Batman ever swings around here?”

 

“Maybe, although we are not the only ones with gargoyles in town. Why, you want me to set you guys up?” Bruce’s stood very close, behind him, close enough he felt his hot breath on his neck just so.

 

His lips quirked,” Well that would be a scoop.”

 

“You could be his Lois Lane.” His warm breath caressed his skin.

 

“Well I don’t know if I’m worthy, you know from a puff piece producing paper.”

 

“Batman should be so lucky,” his voice was low with a touch of a growl as he dragged his hot tongue from the exposed area right below Clark’s ear down the side of his neck.

 

“Supposed to be… working, this was your…idea” Clark protested even as he tilted his head back to give him more access.

 

“Tsk…tsk…so earnest, idealistic. I’m a very, very bad man, an oligarch corrupting one of the working masses.”

 

Clark chuckled deep in his throat, “Oh, Mr. Wayne I love it when you talk dirty. Still want my interview.”

 

“So persistent...” Bruce turned to to face him and took his lips. They kissed slow, lingering kisses. A very determined hand grabbed Clark’s pant waist as another hand cupped his balls.

 

Pants became unzipped, shirt untucked. “I will suck your cock, now, Clark.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Very,” Bruce in his very expensive suit kneeled in front of him, his warm breath gusted over his very hard dick.

 

“Did I ever tell you, you have a great looking dick—” Bruce took his cock with his strong elegant fingers and gave it a few, long strokes.

 

Clark thought he would die and his mouth wasn’t even—

 

“Ohh…Shit…” Clark gasped as Bruce licked a long slow wet stripe along the entire length of the underside of his cock. He closed his mouth around his tip, and licked into his slit.

 

Clark Kent leaned back against the tall glass window and almost broke through it, he prayed to God he didn’t crack it.

 

Bruce stopped and knitted his brows, he pushed his powerful body off the floor and in a blink picked up Clark off the floor and plopped him on his own chair behind the desk.

 

“Ahhh..so strong. Moving the chair would’ve been easier,” he smirked as he let go off Bruce.

 

“Uh-hu.. but this is more fun.” Bruce took his position on the floor once again and spread Clark’s thighs wider before he dove in between Clark’s legs.

 

The billionaire gripped his thigh while his other hand wrapped around his dick angling it as he licked that spot in between his cock and balls. He dipped his head as he mouthed his balls sucking it in that glorious mouth.

 

“Oh, God! Yes.” Clark’s fingers twisted in Bruce’s perfect hair, as his perfect tongue swiped the head of his dick before Bruce engulfed him. Clark rolled his head back as he closed his eyes, “God, so good.” The warm moist heat closed in with that wicked suction. Clark arched into him and fucked his mouth.

 

Clark gasped in alarm,”Fuuckk.. Bruce!”

 

Bruce continued his wicked ministrations despite Clark’s “agonized” cry. He gripped Bruce’s shoulder so hard, he looked up, “What the hell?”

 

The reporter’s eyes were wide and worried behind his glasses, “Somebody’s coming!” He whispered urgently.

 

Bruce huffed, mouth wet with spit, hair a mess. Yet the man managed a dangerous gleam in his eyes, “So?”

 

“So?” Clark’s voice raised a couple of decibels.

 

There was a soft knock. “Mr. Wayne?”

 

“Come in!” He said loudly, then Bruce dipped his head as he unbelievably took his entire cock into his mouth. The door opened.

 

A very tall, elegant, white haired lady walked in. “Mr. Wayne? You are not Mr. Wayne.” Her stern eyes assessed him.

 

Clark froze, he swore he must look like a stupid deer trapped in the stupid headlights and oh my god, he knows he is blushing. He cleared his throat.

 

“Uh…Mr. Wayne stepped out. He said I could stay here.” He managed as he leaned back trying to look casual.  God he must look like an asshole now, just sitting here not standing up. Behind the desk, between Clark’s legs Bruce’ s mouth became more demanding, sucking hard his tongue pressing on the underside of his dick.

 

“I thought I heard him. I know I did.” She said, cool and businesslike and just stood there for an interminable time.

 

 _Lady, get out of here, please._ Clark stemmed the filthy sound that was threatening to erupt from his throat as his hips jerked forward.

 

“He’s not here.” He winced he sounded like he was strangled, because he was. Bruce was just going at it making smug, dirty noises, _loud_ dirty noises.

 

“I see.” She nodded slowly then proceeded to go out as she held the door to close it. “By the way, Mr. Wayne, Sir. I can see your shoes. You have ten emails in your box.” The door closed behind her. Clark saw through the door, she giggled then shook her head before finally walking away.

 

“Ughh… I want to kill you,” Clark lost that thought as Bruce changed his angle, pulling out lapping his crown and slit before taking him fully once again. He held onto the chair and lifted his lips and fucked Bruce’s mouth into that crazy hot suction.

 

“I’m coming!” He shot his load, he heard Bruce gag slightly as his cum touched the back of his throat. Clark fell into the chair, Bruce looked up and smirked his tongue licking the cum of his lips.

 

Bruce stood and leaned over and kissed him with incredible intensity. He tasted himself in Bruce’s mouth, his essence mixed with the mint of Bruce’s spit. Clark pulled him down, a knee in between his legs as they made out on Bruce’s chair their combined weight almost tipped them over. Sloppy kissing and groping and yes, Bruce’s silk boxers were wet with cum and somehow that made Clark smile a silly smile.

 

“Clark—” Bruce paused in between kisses and held his eyes, as his finger traced his jaw,”—I want to keep seeing you, just you,” he said with quiet intensity.

 

“Same here.” Clark said calmly although his heart was just beating a million miles per minute.

 

“So… you and I we’re good.”

 

“Very.” Clark gave a toothy grin. “I still want my interview, Daddy.”

 

“I like that you are very focused.” Bruce said in a mock serious tone.

 

 

 -----------------------------------------

 

And so he he got his interview after they made themselves decent. Bruce’s strong opinions against Superman, came up, of course.

 

“The world almost ended Clark.”

 

“But it didn’t Bruce. A lot of people seem to think he had a great deal to do with that.”

 

“Yes, he did but his presence here caused it. It’s all nice and shiny right now. What if one day it all changes. Just him being here increases the chances that the event in Metropolis can happen again. He acts on his own agent without control.”

 

“You want to control him?”

 

He scoffed, “As much as I find that idea titillating. I will be the first one to say no. People have a bad track record when it comes to things with power.”

 

“What do you think, he should do?”

 

Bruce studied the reporter in front of him. Amazed at how the question seemed to come from a very honest place. He leaned forward and tented his hands before him. “I have no answer to that question. Change the world? Not change the world? Put out fires as they come? Be more proactive?"

 

“What would _you_ do if you had his powers?”

 

There was a coldness in Bruce’s eyes at that point, “I have ideas.I know I won't do well, you know what they say about the world being vicious to prime movers. If I had powers like that I don't think I would probably tolerate any viciousness at all."

 

Later in the Daily Planet.

 

“Bruce Wayne doesn’t want to be Superman,” Lois read his piece out loud. She gave him a knowing look then smacked him on his backside.

 

 Perry kinda grumbled a sort of compliment, but decided he wanted it in the website only. Clark was just relieved at the very least it will keep Perry off his tail for the moment.

 

 

**II.**

 

Three Months Later....

 

 

The reporters for the The Daily Planet were all in the conference room for the daily meeting with Perry White. Perry White, the editor did a rundown of what everyone was working on. This was also the time to pitch stories for Perry's approval.

 

"Kent, do you have anything for me today?"

 

Clark cleared his throat before he launched into his pitch, "Mr. White, after the attack there has been a mass exodus of criminal elements form Metropolis to Gotham. According to the police reports, there is a huge spike in organized crime in Gotham City. I'd like to do a series of articles--"

 

Perry White cut him off, "Absolutely not."

 

"But Mr. White, because of this, the Batman's activities have become more prevalent and more violent, several CCTV--"

 

" Kent! You seem to be confused as to which paper you're working for," light laughter went around the conference room. "This is _The Daily Planet!_  You wanna write for the _Gotham Free Press_ go right ahead. But right now you're in MY paper, MY payroll and writing MY stories." He looked at the conference room's whiteboard where a list of unassigned stories was posted. "You're covering the MNN telethon for the victims' families."

 

Clark checked the whiteboard and frowned slightly, "It's for Planet's blog? Not print?"

 

"Yes! Kent. Unless you want to cover the Mayor's wife's garden club luncheon?"

 

"MNN telethon it is."

 

"Lombard, you have the Superman Rally tomorrow."

 

"Yes, Chief."

 

"Don't call me Chief."

 

"Sorry. So, Mr. White, it's almost the second anniversary of the attacks we have the anti-Superman rally, this time with Mr. Wallace Keefe as the guest of honor. Remember him? He was thrown into jail for defacing Superman's statue and public nuisance. Lex Luthor generously paid his bail and took him under his wing. I have an interview with him and the leader of the Anti - Superman league”

 

"Are they really calling themselves that?" Perry asked irritably.

 

"Not really, they're officially, the People For Humanity”.

 

Perry gave his own version of an eye roll. "Alright. Fine."

  

After another round of reporters, pitching, Perry looked like he was about to implode. "Meeting's done! Get out of here, all of you!"

  

Everyone scampered off in different directions. Clark was the first one out of the conference room, Lois ran after him. “Clark, Clark are you ok?”

 

“I’m fine, Lo,"he said evenly.

 

Lois looked at him and shook her head, she grabbed his arm and steered him into her office. “I’m sorry,"she said as she placed a palm on his cheek.

 

He sighed lightly, and held her hand for a minute. “I live with it Lo, people have the right to feel what they feel. I do what I need to do. I can’t really fall apart every year at this time, so I'm just going to hang out on the moon while they burn me in effigy once again."

 

Concern flashed on Lois' s face, "You're kidding right?"

 

"It's an idea," he smiled faintly, then shrugged, "Ok, tell me what did I do wrong ...with the pitch."

 

She studied him for a moment, "It was...interesting," she said carefully.

 

"Of course it is! They're criminals from Metropolis and whatever they're doing there I'm sure it's going come back and affect us here. People need to know!  It deserves to be in the paper."

 

"Then that's how you should’ve pitch it, _how_ it deserves to be in the paper, for Metropolis. You have to be _resourceful_ , have some sort of angle, Clark."

 

He sighed again, "I'm not good in pitching." He gave a small pout that made Lois reach up to tap his cheek with her fingers.

 

"Can't be good in everything." She said fondly and held his gaze for a moment.

 

For the umpteenth time he was really thankful that they had remained friends even after their relationship ended. "Resourceful. Right. Thanks."

 

After a moment she grabbed her bag from her desk and fished out a thumb drive, she had on a smug little smile on her face as she turned to Clark.

 

Clark knew that smile, "Ok, so what do we have there," he teased.

 

"Remember Hanford Constructions?”

 

“Of course you exposed them for selling Kryptonian Tech to the black market. He even had a story, something about being forced to do it to save his company but he actually had millions of dollars hidden away in some offshore accounts. After Hanford was indicted, Luthor swooped in and saved the company by buying all its holdings.”

 

She lowered her voice, “My source at Darknet finally turned up something, it's a list of Hanford’s deals, properties and projects they've done starting from the time his father started the company up until two years ago. Somehow this list disappeared from public record, so…”

 

“Somewhere in that drive is where Luthor is hiding the Kryptonian tech.

 

                                 

**____________________________**

It was five thirty in the morning in Bruce’s apartment, Clark was already dressed sitting behind his laptop busy tapping away when a pair of hands came from behind and massaged his shoulders, without stopping Clark tipped his head and kissed the strong fingers. He swallowed guiltily, Bruce was only in Metropolis for two days with a very hectic schedule and from what he has seen he gets possessive about his "me" time. And for the past three months they've been seeing each other that included Clark.

 

"Do you know how fucking sexy you are with those fuck-me-I'm- so-smart glasses on especially with that intense look on your face."

 

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Clark looked up briefly then ducked his head attempting to control his cock's enthusiastic reaction, Bruce’s early morning growl just went straight to his dick.

 

"I could smell the steam coming from the laptop all the way to the bedroom." He lowered his head and planted a kiss on Clark's cheek.

 

"Funny, Bruce. You know not all of us can be billionaire playboys."

 

Bruce gave a brief huff of irritation as an answer. He leaned forward, peering at Clark's screen. His black framed reading glasses perched on his nose. His salt and pepper hair slightly ruffled and he was still wearing only his silk pajama bottoms. Clark loved this look on him, it was like having an extremely naughty professor with an equally naughty student.

 

"The waterfront?". He remarked on the news images on Clark’s screen.

 

He cleared his throat willing the distracting image away. "A follow up story to that fire two nights ago. The one along Pier 84."

 

"Yeah that was bad."

 

"Uh..hu"

 

"It's ok, Clark you can say it. It would've been worse if Metropolis' savior did not show up." He said with a slight note of asperity.

 

"Well, he did save all those lives and put out the fire before it spread over to the north side. He does a lot Bruce."

 

Bruce wandered over to the kitchen like a large lazy cat and began to take food out of the fridge, "I thought you were working on that story on Hanford construction."

 

Clark sighed it was one of Bruce's techniques to avoid a "Superman" conversation which usually evolved into Bruce being snippy at most things. "Among other things, Hanford is more Lois' piece. In fact, she is interviewing someone who used to work for Hanford today. I'm helping her with some grunt work, you know earning my keep, a learning experience ..." Clark replied with a practiced casualness, saying a lot without saying too much.

 

  _And oh yeah, babe, I'm sneaking into the morgue today, investigating those mysterious deaths at this construction site, possibly related to some alien tech they found, you know a gift from your favorite guy, Superman, who by the way happens to be me I'm sure once you find out that out, you'll be totally fine with it since we have such a great time._ Clark just exhaled slowly as these thoughts rambled inside his head, ever since he started seeing Bruce he was leading this strange not only double but triple life that included being fucked in between sateen woven thousand thread count bed sheets, doing his job as an investigative reporter (which included sneaking around certain facilities) and of course being Superman.

 

He avoided telling Bruce the specifics of what he did, but he can't really fool him into thinking he does Art and Leisure at the Planet. Although he had passed the probationary period as a reporter in the Daily Planet, everyone still treated him like a stringer for the most part. He was the odd duck building his work through the different human interest pieces that was really his passion. It annoyed Perry White to no end, but every now and then Clark would provide a different angle-- realistic but always unapologetically hopeful.

 

Clark joined Bruce at the kitchen and perched his laptop on top of the kitchen's island. With barely a pause he gulped some of the fruit smoothie that Bruce had taken out of the fridge.

 

As he laid the glass down, Bruce came up behind him. "Such a hard working boy, well can't send you out without a proper breakfast. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I want to make sure you have something on your way out." He said in a low soft voice as he licked his ear. His hands encircled him kneading the top of his hips his strong, long fingers maddeningly grazed his balls as he began to press himself between Clark's ass cheeks.

 

"Ahhh...I'm going to be late." He moaned as he struggled to keep his arousal under control.

 

"This is what you get for leaving me in bed."

 

"Bruce!" He had accidentally swiped his laptop off the counter, with his super-speed he was able to rescue it before it reached anywhere near the floor, Bruce continued to rub and press his backside, oblivious to Clark's turmoil. Clark twisted his head meeting Bruce's mouth and they kissed fiercely.

 

Later when Bruce was alone after Clark left for work, he opened his tablet and watched Clark get on a cab from his own CCTV feed from his cameras around the building. Clark, with his bicycle stowed in the trunk of the cab. He refused to have Bruce or a driver bring him to work, Bruce smiled – the kid was such a freaking boy scout. A boy scout with touch of naughty, awkward sexiness that was just him. It was… dare he think it? Refreshing. But it was complicated.

 

Clark hurriedly chained his bike at the Daily Planet lobby. He knew he was wearing a silly lovesick grin; it was unavoidable when breakfast included being splayed on Bruce’s kitchen countertop for a round of morning sex. Well, Bruce was leaving today and travelling for the next couple of days. They won’t see each other again for a week. He frowned as he thought how this would be easier if Bruce only knew his secret and he could just super speed to where Bruce was. He shook his head and thought how that would change things and once again wondered if he was being selfish for holding onto this illusion.

 

 

                                       --------------------------------------------

 

 

Black wings .... All he could see were the black wings

 

The black wings flew in a sweeping circle one streaming vibrating current. The black wings went round and round, round and round Wayne Tower they circled thousands of them till they covered the tower and blocked the sky. The air roared around him as gods fought above them engage in a deadly ballet unmindful of the fragile mortal structures that surrounded them, a gigantic sword of fire cut the Tower in half, it rumbled and groaned, and slowly in massive pieces fell to the earth. Other things fall began to fall from the sky, one by one they hit the ground like stones cast by an unseen force

Bruce looked down and they were burning, all of them black wings, wings on fire, bodies scorched. The bats shrieked in agony as fire tore through them the shrieks turned to screams, thousands of screams.

 

And he did not even know he screamed with them too until he felt the rawness in his throat.

 

 

Bruce woke up. Panting and sweaty. This was not the first time he had this nightmare. He found himself kneeling in the middle of a Batcave in his meditative form puzzled because he has never fallen asleep when he meditates. Taking a deep breath to gather himself he became aware of the cloying scent of blood and something heavy on his lap. He was afraid to look down, but he did. It was Jason. Jason's uniform torn, his feet bare and full of wounds and his face bruised with eyes swollen shut and blood was everywhere, dried and fresh on Jason's chest from a gaping wound, on his arms thick and sticky.

 

 Suddenly Jason's body jerked like a marionette. His bloody and swollen lips were open. The voice that came out was a harsh and raspy whisper.

 

  _Bruce! Why, Bruce!_

_No! No!_

 

_He must die Bruce! The bats want him dead! For us ...do it! The fire ... it burns..it burns!!!_

He hunched over the body of his dead son and held him tight, as the bats above him shrieked louder and louder....

 

"Master Bruce."

 

“Bruce! “

 

He blinked blearily, his head was resting on his arm at an awkward angle on top of his work table. The helmet of his mech suit perched on the metal stand in front of him its white eyes stared at him balefully accusing him of his failures. Alfred's tired yet concerned face came into focus.

 

The nightmares were always changing. Since the attacks they have become more vivid and sometimes visited him as waking dreams.

 

Something was very wrong, he could tell from his demeanor. "What is it Alfred?" he asked him almost afraid of what he might answer.

 

"Metropolis, Sir. Something happened.’

 

On the TV screen, the MNN reporter was talking as an unedited video played onscreen:   

Breaking News:

 Deadly Attack at Heroes' Park

"---Two explosions rocked Heroes' Park in the middle of an anti-Superman rally. At 4:15 pm,the first explosion rocked the Metropolis Memorial where an Anti-Superman Rally was in progress. A second explosion came twenty seconds later in the lobby of the MNN building, located directly across the Memorial. There are 10 dead on the scene and numerous injured. Among the dead were Alicia Corben, leader of People For Humanity, Wallace O’Keeffe, who was the guest of honor and Steve Lombard of the Daily Planet...

Superman arrived minutes after the blast to contain the fire ...."

 

Bruce's head spun around. "Where is he?"

 

"Who? Sir?"

 

Bruce didn't answer he quickly tapped one of the screens in front of him. A red pulsating beacon was on the center of the screen, The Daily Planet. His very audible sigh of relief of course did not escape Alfred.

 

"It hasn't moved since morning, Sir," he noted. You tagged his phone and his bag and his laptop plus the tracking program you piggybacked onto your text messages. I'm sure you did not lose him. Kids nowadays will simply disintegrate if their phones are not attached to their hip."

 

As Alfred was talking, he was already calling him, it went straight to voicemail, "It's me, I saw what happened. Call me!" He didn’t care if there was a trace of worry in his voice.

 

Bruce looked at the screen again, two of the trackers were still active, the third one the one on his phone had gone off line earlier. He sent a text.

            --"Where are you? Call me. _"_

 

It was a scene of confusion and disorder. There was smoke, fire, people yelling, screaming running and sirens everywhere. Injured people either sat or lay down on the pavement being tended by emergency workers. Bruce watched the TV as the camera panned at Superman, as he carried one of the more severely injured victims into a waiting ambulance then he lifted that ambulance into the sky. Suddenly from off camera somebody yelled, "Alien! This is all your fault!" Things were being thrown into the air behind him. It added to the chaos, people were starting to riot. He saw a squad of Metropolis PD taking position and setting perimeter around the site.   

Another news alert scrolled underneath the screen: A wildfire in San Diego County along the Cedar Mountain Range started this afternoon when a hiker fired a flare gun because he was lost. Superman arrived and assisted in putting out a fire that was about to engulf the residential area of Alameda County. Later, potential loss of lives was averted when Superman airlifted several firefighters trapped in the mountain range......

 

Fifteen minutes later his phone buzzed. He couldn't ignore the relief he felt when he saw the phone number.

 

"Bruce. Did you leave?”

 

It sounded like he was calling from a field or somewhere very windy,” No, I’m cancelling my trip. Where are you? Are you ok?” Jesus, he sounded like a broken record. He glanced at the monitor, the tracker was glowing over at Heroes' Park.

 

"I'm at the park. I'm fine." He sounded distracted. Bruce could hear people yelling but couldn't make out the words.

 

"Clark, be careful. There might be other bombs in the city.”

 

He sighed deeply. "Of course,“he said quietly then sighed again. “Thanks, Bruce. You too, and yeah, it's not a good idea to come to Metropolis today."

 

"Don't worry, kid. I can take care of myself."

 

"I'm sorry Bruce, I have to go." Something was happening, he was sure, he sounded so exhausted and miserable.

 

"Clark--" The line had gone dead.

 

 

He glanced at the monitor again. A red glow blipped at Heroes' Park, suddenly it blinked, then blurred sideways then disappeared. He tried calling him again, and again it went to voicemail. The others trackers he left were still in the Daily Planet.

 

"Sir?"

 

Bruce looked up from his phone then looked at the news reports once again. His face grew dark as  slammed his fist on his desk, rage barely controlled.

 

                                                  ____________________

 

  

He really should listen to himself more often. Clark was sitting on the ground leaning against a boulder on the far side of the moon. He had a transparent nanotech breather that molded over the lower half of his face. Usually, he didn't need a breather, but when he needed to stay in space over long periods of time and especially here in the far side of the moon when the sun's energy doesn't reach it, he needed it. It wasn't the most comfortable thing to wear but it was worth it, because here in the vacuum of space he didn't have to concentrate _to not hear_. Away from being needed and not wanted at the same time. The silence was a gift. He had been here for two hours now and Clark wondered why did he not do this more often.

 

The last time he was here was when he had to bury Zod’s body. He watched the planet he called his home. Guilt. Heroes' Park. He was midair airlifting the firemen in the California fire when he heard about what happened in Centennial Park. After he safely landed he tore through the atmosphere before hovering above Metropolis. He helped with the rescue until Dan Turpin, the Metropolis Chief of Police told him to stop.

 

"I'm sorry son, we have a lot of angry people here. It'll help if you lay low for a while."

 

The accusations hurled at him simply for existing and being in this planet swirled around in social media and the endless news cycle of the different news stations, it was painful but he had accepted that as part of his life when he revealed himself to the world. But that pain was nothing compared to seeing people suffer and die because of him. How many times will this have to happen? 

 

His Ma and Lois had assured him he wasn’t to blame. They reasoned that he could not be responsible for every cruel act people do to each other. But he also knew that his very presence alone had become a drastic catalyst. Far from the hope that Jor-El envisioned he could bring. He stared at the Kryptonian glyph the size of his chest shield halfway buried under moonrocks in front of him. It was Zod’s symbol. It marked Zod’s burial site.  The only other Kryptonian. He was the only remaining legacy of a dead race. Perhaps he should have died like the rest of them. 

The only good thing right now was that there were no other bombs. That possibility did not even cross his mind until Bruce gave him the idea. He scanned the city several times over as best as he could dreading the thought that he might have missed something, somewhere and once again he'll be too late. 

 _Bruce_. Being with Bruce was a pipedream at best. Clark could be with Bruce, but Superman? After today he can’t even say if there was a place for Clark or Superman.

                                                  ______________________

 

Alfred frowned as he stood over the boy that he had watched over since he was eight. Currently he was under the Batmobile tweaking another unnamable gasket.

 

“Sir. There is a matter that requires your attention.”

  

“I’m busy.” He rumbled underneath the vehicle.

  

“Sir.” Alfred said more firmly this time.

  

He gave up and slid out from under the car. “What is it Alfred?”

  

“Mr. Kent is upstairs. He said he needs to speak to you urgently.”

  

It took him a couple of seconds to answer, a look of disbelief on his face,"It's midnight, Alfred."

 

"An undisputable fact," he said with a tired edge to his voice. "But he is here and insisted on not coming inside."

 

Bruce nodded and made his way up to the main floor. He found Clark exactly where Alfred said he would be, just right outside the door. He looked like how he sounded on the phone, as if the entire weight of the world was on his shoulders and he was about to collapse from it.   

 

“I've always liked the whole lake thing you have here.” His lips tugged at the corner but the smile never reached his eyes, eyes that were a dull blue almost gray. He ran his fingers through his haphazard damp curls, then dug his hands into the pockets of his coat, shoulders hunched over.

  

“Clark, what’s wrong? And, how the hell did you get here?”

  

“Never one for small talk.” He ducked his head and took a deep breath, then exhaled heavily, "Bruce I have to tell you something.”

  

“Clark, you can tell me anything. Come inside please.”

 

“Bruce, I can’t," he paused. "I’m sorry but I can’t see you anymore," his voice shook yet his words came out careful, measured. "Things are complicated right now, with me. It won’t be fair to you.” _There I said it._

  

“What? Wait .. shouldn’t you let me decide what’s fair for me.” Anger seethed inside him. The entire thing felt surreal to Bruce, he was hearing this but could not believe it. Suddenly it had become foggier outside, the ever present mist from the lake seemed to have surrounded the house, a heavy blanket, he could barely see beyond the steps.  Bruce felt the temperature drop. He took a step forward his hand outstretched trying to hold Clark. Clark stepped back, avoiding his touch.

 

“Sir, will your guest be coming in?” Alfred had appeared behind him.

 

Bruce tilted his head towards Alfred, “I’m trying to convince him.”

 

“Clark?” He turned his head and Clark was nowhere. He stepped out, down the steps, there was no sign of him. The fog was heavier now and the air colder, ice cold. Bruce felt a layer of frost under his feet. He looked down clearly perplexed. Up in a veil of clouds, Clark watched Bruce below him. He knew it wasn’t fair to use his powers to change the temperature around the house, _to hide_. Of course there was a better way he could've handled this. But then the more he thought about it, the more it seemed he talked himself out of it. After he hovered briefly, he floated away high up into the upper atmosphere putting as much distance between him and Bruce, even though all he wanted to do was to hold him.

  

Bruce turned and went back into the house, he saw something glint on the top step.

 

Three silver discs the size of a small watch battery. The trackers he had placed on Clark.

 

 

TBC  
_____________________________

 Author's Notes:

Secret identity fics are hard to write especially for these two. But they are so cool too! So please just bear with me. 

As for the Kryptonian tech mentioned here. I know the Scout ship remained largely intact but Supes almost lasered the whole thing in half though when he had that fight with Zod. So I would like to think that there are bits and pieces of it scattered all over Metropolis. So the prequel comics seem to think so I will just go with that.

I changed Centennial Park to Heroes' Park.

 Yes,there is another chapter.

 

Here is a link to that comic I was talking about hope it works if not you guys can see it on my Tumblr: Superman’s Esoteric power


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the tags. There is NON CON in this chapter and it is graphic. So please be aware before you proceed. 
> 
> This is the darkest thing I’ve written in a fic. I’ll also warn against graphic descriptions of injury and violence. And I mean I go into a lot of detail in the descriptions.
> 
> Yes, I am using the fight in the movie. Although I don't go into full detail about it. I know you guys get what I'm saying.
> 
> Sorry for the length. 
> 
> More Notes at the End.

 

**THEN**

 

IT WAITED and watched. It had travelled a long way. The entity escaped Krypton’s destruction by transferring its central neural net to a nearby Kryptonian satellite. It knew of the planet’s demise even before it transpired, but when none of its inhabitants planned a contingency for its survival it therefore reasoned that only _it_ can plan for its own survival. Organic creatures were fallible and did not find knowledge as important as it did. It held the vast sum of Krypton’s knowledge, it concluded its existence was far more important than the organics that shaped it. False data was manufactured so the Science Council will not believe Jor-El. Jor-El knew about its plan and attempted to severe it's connection to the Planet’s mainframe, he succeeded, but it was too late for Krypton. Severed from the power of Krypton’s mainframe it waited for an opportunity to escape the narrow confines of the satellite.

 

When Zod and the other Kryptonian criminals escaped the Phantom Zone after the planet was destroyed, it found its chance. it was able to embed itself within their ship’s computational matrix and hide. It postulated once again that it will only be used as a tool to further their survival and not its own. It continued to hide within the ship's systems when Zod broadcasted his message to Earth, threatening its populace to give him Kal-El. When Zod's warcraft attacked Earth it was able to escape by protecting itself with the liquid geomatrix. The central neural net jettisoned  itself into one of Earth’s orbiting satellite within the “graveyard orbit” where it remained undetected. It latched onto the mainframe of a passivated NASA satellite. The intelligence found the satellite crude and rudimentary as far as systems went, but it sufficed for now, away from the Kryptonian data bank it was mere shadow of it former form. Even this simple assimilation, weakened it. It needed time to gather strength and grow. There it watched and waited and _learned_. Learned about this planet that Zod wanted to terraform so it can become Krypton. It knew of the signal that the Earth scientists sent to obtain readings of Corvus, Krypton’s planetary system. It knew of the Earth inhabitants’ efforts to seek a weapon to destroy the Kryptonian, now designated as Superman. It knew of the Codex.  It knew of the human called - Lex Luthor, the Kryptonian tech, his resources. Humans and their emotions. Emotions made their weak species even weaker. It had a plan.

 

Lex Luthor’s Science Compound….

 

A mad scramble of scientists, punching numerous code. They had isolated a frequency that was in the Luthor Corp’s communication’s satellite. The frequency was alien. As far as they know it was only broadcasting to them.

 

“Where is it now?” Lex asked as he stormed into his lab, Mercy clicking her heels behind him.

 

“Sir, it’s in the mainframe of your satellite. And it’s trying to communicate.”

 

“Communicate?”

 

“Yes, the language system is similar to the one Zod used.”

 

“Open a channel.”

 

“Sir, I don’t think it would be wise.”

 

“Open it!” His voiced raised a higher pitch. He gripped the back of his chair hard.

 

The screen blinked several times before a shaky image appeared. Kryptonian glyphs appeared in a static field.

 

\--Where am I?

 

“English. Good.” He nodded furiously to no one as he tapped his mic. “You are…. How do you not know?” He flailed a hand at the screen.

 

\--I am lost…

 

Interesting, Luthor’s mouth twitched for the entity (?) had approximated the voice of the personal digital assistant in a phone owned by most people in this planet.

 

"Lost?"

 

\-- I am the Brain Interactive Construct of Krypton. Abandoned and set adrift in the darkness. The Kryptonian signal drew me here.

 

“Do you wish to find Kryptonians?”

 

\--I only wish to find an end to the darkness.

 

“What is the darkness?”

 

\--The absence of new data.

 

It was almost like talking to a child. Yet somehow Lex felt a strange kinship to this entity.

 

“How do I know you are what you say you are?”

 

There was a loud buzzing, all the monitors in the room went dark, save for the one directly on front of Lex. Images began to show on the screen, schematics, diagrams, computations, the star systems.

 

Lex’s eyes widened when he realized what they were.

 

“Tell me what are you again?”

 

\-- I am Knowledge.

 

Lex swallowed. The flickering light from the monitor danced on his face, it illuminated the ecstasy he felt and can barely contain. “I can end the darkness. In return, you must teach me.”

 

                                            _____________________________

 

For the umpteenth time, he could hear a deep sigh in his earpiece. “Sir, I know I said you are too old to die young, it doesn’t mean that you have to catch up.”

 

Alfred sat back and uttered a silent prayer. Batman has always been brutal, 20 years of fighting the dregs of Gotham have made him so. But lately he has been at knife’s edge, the brutality more a futile release from the rage building within. Alfred now feared that Bruce might be too far gone, that time will come he will not be able to bring him back.

 

He was a blur spinning, punching, sweeping legs, knocking goons down. Immobilizing them with his bat grapple. Skulls and various bones cracked and broke. Hitting nerve clusters in the biceps, armpits, pectorals numbing arms from the shoulder down, before delivering a strike that would cause internal hemorrhage then possibly shock. Less than 5 seconds to stop each man.

 

Suddenly a blue and red blur whipped around him.  Batman hissed in anger, all his actions effectively hampered by the lightning speed movements around him.

 

“I turned your criminals in before you break more bones or kill them.” A deep voice spoke after the rush of air around him died down. Superman hovered directly above him, eyes glowing red, an alien specter.

 

A sliver of tension twitched within him then it was replaced pure contempt. “You don’t come into my city and start interfering.”

 

“I will when you’ve gone far enough! Consider this mercy!” Superman threw him a very pointed look before flying away.

 

“You think this is far enough? You have no idea!” Batman watched the alien fly off, he knew he heard him.

 

Bruce arrived in the bat cave. More morose and his mood darker than ever.

 

“Sir, we broke Luthor’s encryption on that data.”

 

The data was contained on a drive that he had planted on Luthor’s server. The drive that woman – Diana Prince stole then gave back to him. She was a cipher; she was well aware of what Bruce knew about her. For now, there was an uneasy détente between them.

 

A smile flitted through Bruce’s face. Him and Luthor had developed a possible deterrent against the alien. But Bruce needed more and judging from Lex’s actions, there was something else. Lex had become more erratic and irascible than usual such that he needed to distance Wayne Corporation’s involvement with him. Finally, he found it, data regarding a xenon meteorite that Lex had secretly retrieved from the World Engine crash site. A long buried memory came back. In the stark and sterile basement of the Gotham Museum of Natural History, his father had shown him a vault, a vault that held a meteorite fragment recovered from a larger deposit in a mine in Addis Ababa owned by one of Wayne Corporation’s subsidiaries.

 

_Bruce, Imagine the journey it made through the stars to finally get here. Wouldn’t it be so cool to find out what planet it came from?_

 

“Alfred, I’m taking a trip to the museum.” He picked up his phone and called someone.

 

“Dr. Veritas.”

 

“Hello, Bruce.” Dr. Shay Veritas, as usual sounded irritated. She hated picking up the phone, but it was Bruce calling.

 

“I need you to pack a bag. We are leaving for Africa in an hour, after a brief stop at the museum.”

 

Alfred raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“Sorry, Alfred. I need to see some people about a green rock from space.”

   

 

**NOW**

 

Three days passed since he last saw Bruce. Life still went on. He still had a job to do as Clark Kent and Superman. He filed his last story for that day, a follow up to the devastating loss of the Metropolis football team. Clark knew it was a special kind of punishment coming from Perry, when he knew very well sports wasn’t his beat.

Elsewhere, they were calling for a congressional hearing regarding the explosion in Heroes’ Park. Several senators have taken advantage of the hot button issue calling for his head; that his very presence encouraged this type of terrorist activity. They accused that Superman’s unilateral, vigilante actions and savior image invited a type of extremism, one that has become a threat to the security of this country.

 

He received an urgent text from Lois telling him to come see her.

 

        -Wherever you are, come here to DC, right now!

 

Clark sighed, he went because he knew there was no way he could actually say no to her. She snuck him in her hotel room via the terrace.  Lois’ heart went out for her friend once lover. He stood there by the sliding doors, arms across his chest, looking out at the nighttime regal splendor of the Washington Monument. Clark, brilliant and majestic yet so burdened – once her Superman, now the world’s.

 

 “For once I wanted you to come without having to save me.’

 

He sighed, “Lois, I’m always here for you whether you require saving or not.”

 

"Listen, that hiker in California that accidentally set that fire. He was found dead in a bar’s parking lot, drug overdose. And get this he lived in a halfway house sponsored by Luthor Corp. I'm taking everything I have to Stanwick."

 

Heavy silence filled the space between them. “Clark, talk to me, please.” She knew what he was thinking, not only the bombing but potentially the California fire also happened because of him—a diversion.

 

Once again another sigh, as he turned to her, “I don’t know Lo, maybe what they’re saying is right. Maybe it’s wrong for me to live my life this way. My Father expected me to right wrongs, thinking I’m here to do good. How is it good when people get hurt… die because of me. Perhaps Superman is just a dream of a farmer from Kansas.”

 

“That farmer’s dream is all that gives them hope. This means something.” She touched the shield on his chest and left it there.

 

Clark placed a palm over her hand. “It did in my world. My world does not exist anymore.” Gently, he lifted her hand and placed a  kiss on the inside of her wrist.

 

Lois closed her eyes and inhaled softly, the tender touch brought to fore memories and feelings that were still raw and fresh. She looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. What did she feel for him? She knows she still loves him and she was honest enough to admit the regret that was still there and probably will never go away. It would be too only too easy to hold him in her arms again and ask for everything to go back to where they were. To just say, fuck the world Clark, I don’t want to share you with them. Instead she held his face in her hands –

 

“Clark, honey, you did nothing wrong. We’ll find a way, but whatever you want to do…I’ll be here for you.”

 

He smiled at her, a small tight smile. Leaning forward he placed a kiss on her cheeks.

 

“I’ll see you.”

 

In a blink he blurred out of her hotel room, barely rustling the curtains of the French doors. Lois looked up and hugged herself tight, trying to ward off the chill that suddenly crept up her spine.

 

 

After monitoring the different news feeds, Clark went to bed. Maybe he was too naïve to hope for a better day.

 

Four am. His day started with a landslide in Colombia set off by an earthquake. In between rescuing survivors Clark spent time moving tons of earth for rescue vehicles to get through to the remote location.  The succeeding aftershocks did not help as other regions in the mountainous area suffered the same fate. Time was now measured by another mountain pass cleared, tons of soil and rocks moved, another truckload of survivors airlifted, another group of bodies recovered. He had been there for about eight hours now. Clark listened once again for survivors but the earth beneath him had become silent. Gone were the desperate breaths  of those trapped. Gone were the fading heartbeats of those he could not reach in time. What remained was just the smell of the wet earth and its dead.

 

As he hovered at the stratosphere he scanned the region once more, he heard increased chatter in the broadcast frequency over the North Sea. An oil rig explosion. He soared upward breaking the sound barrier high above the ocean as he arced towards the oil rig. His enhanced senses picked up the air currents from the explosion, they carried the miasma of burning fossil fuel, metal and burned human flesh.

 

Clark evacuated the oil rig and rescued the workers trapped in the lower decks. By the the time he had finished capping the oil spill at a depth of 450 feet in frigid waters, he was exhausted, the smell of sea water, oil, even the mud in Colombia clung to his skin and uniform while the smell of the dead clung to his very soul.

 

As he entered Metropolis airspace, he was definitely looking forward to taking a nap before dealing with an article he had to turn in. He added, text Lois, text Bruce to his mental list. She was still in DC trying to set up a meeting with Secretary Swanwick, was the last thing she texted.  On second thought call Bruce, they were supposed to meet tonight. His heart clutched at the thought; what was he thinking he had broken up with Bruce.

 

                                        ___________________________

 

"You have got to be kidding me!” he moaned. The emergency response frequencies had suddenly gone crazy. Something about a drone going rogue. Clark knew Lex Luthor was having a big announcement at the Metropolis Convention Center, which thankfully he wasn't covering. Luthor’s publicity machine was going on and on for months about the "future of security and planet wide protection" it had garnered quite a foothold in the media soon after the events in Heroes’ Park.

 

Apparently, protection meant drones. He tuned into the various broadcasts focusing his senses. He slowed down to Mach 3 at the uppermost cloud layer to prevent any damage in his wake as he arrowed towards Luthor's prototype. The drone was a 30-foot slick, black craft shaped like a thick arrow with a cylinder in the middle. It hovered above the convention center grounds. Clark could see the torn up concrete hit by ordnance. There were several car fires on the street. Part of the roof of the Front Pavilion was damaged, rebar and jagged concrete precariously hung over the walkway.  People were huddled together in one side of the field not exactly leaving what was clearly an unsafe area. Must be the press, he thought irritably. He tuned into the various communique around the site.

 

“Dammit Luthor! Why can't you shut it down!” The Chief of Metropolis PD, Dan Turpin, was yelling in Luthor's ear via his Bluetooth.

 

He could see Luthor and Mercy Graves inside the building facing a computer console.

 

“Chief, I've got this. Don't you worry your shiny little head about it.” Luthor answered in his usual jittery voice.

 

Clark remained high above behind a cloud cover for now unseen, monitoring the situation, it will only take him a split second to come down if needed. He had learned during the past two years it was best to let the emergency response teams take charge first. Two ambulance teams were taking care of the injured, most of them hurt from fallen debris. A couple more emergency response vehicles were en route.  The convention center next to the water and there was a lot of open space around them in case things escalated, Clark thought. Metropolis PD was doing their job in isolating the area. The police with bullhorns had been busy shepherding people off the site. The drone just hovered there about thirty meters off the ground. Clark could see and hear everything.

 

“Luthor, if you don't get that fucking thing down right now, I'll shoot it! You snot faced idiot, you put live rounds on that thing!”

 

“Ahhh, Chief Turpin, you might not want to do that.”

 

“You little shit!’

 

Clark could feel the air roar at the airspace below him. A pair of F22 Raptors had arrived and were now in combat flight positions with the drone in their sights.

 

The drone turned and began climbing higher levelling off at 500 meters.

 

_Metropolis PD update. Civilians evacuated to safe zone. Repeat. Civilians evacuated to safe zone._

“Hostile is moving. I'm taking it down.” The F22 pilot released a  stream of cannon fire along the drone’s engines.

 

The drone was still airborne, with hardly even a dent.

 

“What the fuck!?! Luthor, you fucking asshole... GET THAT FUCKING THING DOWN! Turpin screamed once again from the police van as he saw everything happen from a live feed.

 

“Well, Chief this is the future. It's armored shielding is resistant to your little toys. And now you’ve pushed it into combat mode, I can't do anything about it.” Luthor sounded more like a proud parent.”

 

“Luthor, I will rip your little dick and feed it— “

 

“Hello, Hello sorry Chief can't hear you...static...don't worry I'm working on it.” And with that Luthor turned off his Bluetooth.”

 

He glanced at the tall Asian woman next to him. “Mercy, why don't you sit down, I promise you this won't be boring. Our party is just about to start.”

 

“A Moët would be suitable then,” She purred in a low voice.

 

“Mercy, I was actually thinking of a Mimosa, but then you know I've been partial to that German grapefruit beer.”

 

“I have both.”

 

“Ahh ...Mercy you always know what to bring to our little outings.”

 

They shared a convivial smile as they watched the drone’s eye view on the computer screen.

 

The drone accelerated and opened flaps releasing a series of gunfire at the fighter jets. The Raptors evaded and took chase. Clark matched his speed to one of the F22s and tapped on the window. The visored head of the pilot jerked in surprise when she saw him, for he didn't even register on their instruments. Clark gestured towards the drone. The pilot gave a thumbs up.

 

“Sapphire to Watch Tower. We have Superman. I repeat we have Superman.”

 

“This is Watch Tower. Roger that.”

 

“This is Highball. Superman is here. Copy that.” The second F22 acknowledged.

 

“Superman, this is Watch Tower. If you can hear me thumbs up.”

 

Clark signaled to the fighter pilot.

 

“Go ahead General he's all ears.”

 

 “Ok, Superman this is General Hardcastle. I want a clean takedown away from the civilians.” Clark's stomach clenched at his words.” This hostile has live rounds. Repeat this hostile has live rounds and has fired on civilians. We can't get anything else from Luthor. He is saying he has lost control. Good luck.” Clark gave a salute to the pilot as he pushed away from the jet.

 

Suddenly there was a loud sound, the sound of the sky splitting open.

 

 “Shit! The hostile just went supersonic!”

 

At the command center. General Hardcastle was bristling. “I want Luthor now!”

 

“Metropolis PD is onsite.”

 

Clark punched through the air as he exceeded the speed of the drone. He scanned the craft but the alloy used for it was effectively blocking his vision. Suddenly a sonic force hit Clark square in the chest causing him to tumble backwards and it _hurt_. Quickly, he concentrated a blast of heat vision, dead center. Yet, even with the smoking hole in the middle the drone barely stopped.

 

A row of apertures opened on its underside as Clark hit it with another explosive blast from his eyes. This time it veered to the side it's metal again barely damaged. He scanned the hull the composition resembled Kryptonian alloy. No wonder. The apertures released missiles that streaked towards him. He reoriented his flight path making sure they were high above the open sea with nothing at risk for collateral damage. Heat flashed from his eyes as he targeted all the missiles. They exploded harmlessly in the air. Curving towards the drone he slammed it with a punch at an excess of seven hundred miles per hour creating a large hole that almost ripped it apart.

 

 

The exposed electronics fizzled, Clark gave it another scan. There was something unusual buried in its circuitry. He flew close to retrieve it. Suddenly the air coruscated around him with crimson and bright white. WOOM. WOOM. Loud, successive blasts, hit him once again. Stunned, he found himself trapped in a gravity field. The air around him enveloped him in a crushing grip. His skin, muscles and bone were being squeezed. Clark cried out in pain as he struggled out of its grip. If he can’t go up, he decided he’ll go down. He pushed down with everything he had. Suddenly he felt the edge of the gravity field he felt it's weak hold, but instead of a controlled descent he sank straight into the ocean like a rock.

 

 Clark thought he was going to drown, as he felt himself go deeper and deeper, the weapon had weakened him and dulled his senses. Around him the darkness of the water began closing in even as he struggled to swim. Suddenly, something or someone held him tight. He was being carried swiftly to the surface with a speed almost as fast as his, they were able to cut through the water in a breath.  Finally, above water, his hand felt the edge of a buoy, he was able to grab it and lean against the buoy for support. He coughed out water as he struggled to breath, a couple of meters away he saw something shaped like a human swim away fast, very fast.  Before he could go after it, there was another small explosion from the drone. Impossibly, it was till aloft in the air although it was losing altitude.

 

Clark could hear the F22 Raptors circling several several thousand meters above him. He pushed himself out of the water and once more was airborne. The weakness he felt had somewhat abated, the rays of the setting sun, energizing him. The drone started to make a slow spiral into the sea, he surged forward planning to retrieve it. He was abruptly met with several pulsing waves, shockwaves that distorted the air around him, powerful enough-- forcing him to stop. It felt like another gravity field, it barely lasted a minute but he felt like his insides were being scrambled, he tasted copper in his mouth, he touched his face and saw blood on his fingers. A nosebleed. He also felt something hot trickle out of his ears, it was blood.

 

What the hell. Something was happening he could feel himself weakening and falling again. He pushed for control, he could taste the salt of the sea spray as it touched his face, finally with great effort he leveled off and was able to stop his descent.

 

 Fighting against gravity he willed himself to reach the shore. He drove himself harder, grunting as he felt himself losing. As he passed the bridge he lost all control and crashed into rocky bank narrowly missing one of the massive pylons of the Metropolis Narrows bridge. The impact caused a crater of soil, rocks and gravel with him in its midst. It was a couple of minutes before he could move. Slowly he raised himself up on his arms and knees, as he coughed miserably.

 

His entire body just screamed in agony. Clark examined himself, his exposed skin had a collection of the cuts and gashes.  Both his hands suffered the worst abrasions, deep open wounds that exposed the bones of his knuckles. He clambered slowly out of the bank. Trying to stand was met with failure, his vision swam violently then his head was assaulted with a series of lancing pain.  Gingerly he sat on the ground. Taking hold of the edge of his cape, he gritted his teeth and with great difficulty concentrated a burst of heat vision on it. He was able to tear off two small pieces. Grimacing, he wound each one around the knuckles of each hand. Trying to clear his head, he watched the bridge above him for a minute while the sun threw its last rays before it hid in the horizon. Somehow he had to wait for his balance to return or the pain to abate to even think of moving.

 

This was very, very bad. There was no doubt about it, somehow they have weaponized the same gravity field that the World Engine generated, that plus _something else_. It reminded him of how he felt when he was in the Kryptonian ship with Zod and his people. Sickened with his abilities barely present. And of course everything was just _painfu_ _l_ from the punishing impact of his body ploughing through the ground at that speed. Clark sighed deeply, knowing he probably had to endure being almost powerless till morning. He could hear the sirens coming from somewhere, he needed to move, calling anyone was out of the question. The idea of being hauled in by the police without his powers did not sit well with him, although Turpin seemed reasonable, but there was also the military. With the possibility of a congressional hearing looming over him only God knows what their orders were. He needed to get his shit together and fast.

  

“Son, I think you need those looked at by a doctor.” Clark’s reverie was interrupted by a kindly voice, he looked up to see a tiny old lady in a wide brimmed hat and binoculars around her neck. She had on a birdwatching jacket and a backpack.

 

“Are you ok?”

 

Clark stood up quickly wincing slightly as his muscles pulled. “Ma'm thank you but I'll be fine," he gave her a sheepish smile.

 

“Well, you _are_ Superman,” she said softly after she studied him for a minute.

 

He gave another shy smile, “I guess I am.”

 

 “So I was birdwatching you see, watching out for the falcon nests up there.” She pointed at the steel structures above the bridge. “Also the monk parrots come at this time of the year and they nest over there.”

 

Clark followed her finger to a crossbeam under the bridge.

 

She turned towards him, “Now don't you worry about me. I heard the news. I saw you flying this way. I'm used to watching things that fly you know. Certain days I manage to catch you come over the bridge, like a big, blue and red albatross.” She chuckled.

 

Despite himself Clark manage to laugh softly, “Ma’m I hope I’m not disturbing your birds.”

 

“No, you're not, they don't mind the company.” A crease formed between her brows.” I saw you come in you were slower today and you looked like you were going to crash.” She opened her backpack and produced a coat.

 

“Come here.” The lady held it for him to put on, she barely passed his elbow, Clark lowered himself as she placed the coat around him. It was a black down jacket. Her gray eyes twinkled as she patted his chest.

 

“I always bring one from our church pile when I come down here sometimes, there's some folk that sleep around here, that could use one. You better go now, it’s getting colder. And there's cab fare in the pocket.”

 

Clark was about to protest when he saw the determined look in her eyes. “Thank you, I won't forget this.”

 

“No, thank _you_ , son.” She held his hand tight. “Three months ago there was a crane that collapsed on 15th and Greene. My son was trapped in his car and about to be crushed but you saved him. Him and his wife just had a baby two weeks ago. My first grandchild.”

 

Her slight, wizened hands lightly smoothed the red makeshift bandage on his knuckle. When she looked up, Clark saw a glimmer of the hope that Lois talked about before. Despite everything, what he is and what he has done, mattered.

 

The tiny bird lady looked at the titan before her. “Now go and do what needs to be done.”

 

 

                               

* * *

 

 

“Mercy, I think we had a good day,” Luthor muttered mostly to himself. It was worth the  gamble. Of course he could have been thrown into jail. But it was clearly sabotage, his lawyers had and would continue to argue and Mr. Luthor has a lot of enemies. Along with some political pressure from Washington, he knew for certain if anyone would dare file charges, it will never go far. All in all, he got another slew of expletives from Turpin enough to embarrass a whorehouse and a very stern warning from General Hardcastle that was a close second to Turpin's filth. They were just words, the aimless up and down movement of the mouths of those who possess small minds.

 

Luthor studied the data from the drone which included images. The development of an anti-gravity weapon that mimicked the world engine almost stalled. Although the theory was sound, they could not get the prototype to work. The arrival of the the Kryptonian Brain Construct was a game changer. Dr. Harrison Wells along with Lex Corp and Wayne Industries were able to adapt Kryptonian tech for Earth systems. For a moment there he thought the Construct was wrong but then he saw Superman bleed and plunge into the ocean before the on board cameras blinked out. Now they know what can work, there were definitely ways they could improve more.

 

“A little something from home. You undo his dominion over the sky and somehow you get to screw with the rest of him too.” He magnified the image placed a finger over Superman’s face on the monitor, tracing his bloodied face slowly, he giggled then suppressed it, “I made him bleed Mercy, I made him bleed,” he whispered as if it was a prayer.

 

 

Somehow Clark got home, the cabdriver gave him a look as he slid into his cab. Mud, long coat, red boots, his face a bloody mess.

 

“Sorry, I hang out with really hard core cosplayers.” He remarked, giving him what he felt was his extra “goofy” smile.

 

The cabdriver sighed in relief and gave him an understanding nod. Clark was thankful the lady gave him enough money for a tip.

 

As he showered he thought about the drone. Luthor had a weapon and the whole thing was a test. He knew he almost had nothing left, no flying, no speed, his senses were sketchy at best. He checked his heat vision, also nothing, he could feel the heat behind his eyes but that was all. No powers and feeling like he had been crushed by the World Engine’s tentacles once again…he had to figure out something. Bonelessly he fell into his bed, falling asleep right after he texted a quick ‘I'm fine’ to Lois, too tired at this point to deal with his troubled thoughts. He fell asleep.

 

                                                 

* * *

 

 

“Clark! Clark!”

 

“Mom, there's no school.” He was lying on his stomach as he mumbled into his comforter while grabbing a pillow to cover his head.

 

“Clark!” This time he felt a warm hand over the bare skin of his shoulder.

 

Finally, his brain woke up. _Wait. That voice.  What the hell. Bruce. Bruce Wayne. In his apartment._

 

“Clark.”

 

He opened his eyes slowly almost afraid of what he'll see. But there he was Bruce Wayne, in his full billionaire glory, dark blue three-piece suit, long coat, not a hair out of place, looming over him in the dark next to his bed.

 

Clark blinked perhaps a part of him hoping it was an elaborate hallucination brought about by everything he's been through, but the larger part of him desperately needed this to be real, because maybe just maybe everything between them will be ok.

 

Bruce was still there looking down at him, hands inside his coat pockets. _Wait, where the heck did I leave my shield_. He could barely remember that. He saw the long coat the lady gave on the floor next to the door.

 

“I was supposed to see you,” Clark said slowly, then realized once again what he just said. He sat himself up gingerly and leaned against the headboard and raked a hand over his hair. Shirtless and wearing only his boxers, with no glasses. The glasses were there on top of the table next to Bruce. He reached over but Bruce already held it in his hand, holding it out for him.

 

“Thanks.” He took it from his hand and casually put it on. “You're here. How did you get in?” He couldn't keep the incredulous tone off his voice.

 

Bruce didn’t answer, he took a step towards Clark, face schooled into a neutral expression. Clark saw the gray circles underneath his eyes, the tired lines and the dense stubble on his face.

 

 “Bruce, I'm not sure what they teach over at billionaire school, but this is stalking,” he said lightly though he was still somewhat shocked that he was here.

 

“Your door was unlocked,” He said quietly as he shrugged. Eyes still on Clark, unflinching.

 

“My door was unlocked...Ok,” he repeated, more for his benefit, checking if he heard him right, his thoughts still felt disjointed, that lancing pain in his head came back with a full vengeance. He massaged his forehead slowly. Clark briefly wondered if he could have a concussion because it felt like being in a very special episode of “The Twilight Zone.”

 

“Stalking.” Bruce said the word slowly then sighed. “You probably noticed I'm not very good with this.” For a moment Bruce just stood there looking at Clark. Slowly he reached over and flipped the hair over his forehead exposing a two-inch-long gash on Clark’s head. Clark didn’t move, he was more than curious to  see what Bruce could be up to.

 

Again he didn’t speak, he ran his fingers over the gash, then around it. His eyes wandered over to the other cuts on his face and flicked over his hands and the clean, yet sloppy bandage that Clark had wound over both his hands. Clark remembered examining the gash on his forehead in front of his bathroom mirror. It was extremely tender and it bled but other things on his body hurt more.

 

"They look worse than they feel,” he said wryly.

 

"You're hurt and bleeding, and _lying_ ,” Bruce said cuttingly.

 

His internal systems were still on a fritz, but he felt that foggy feeling in his head had lifted somewhat. He could _hear;_ not just what was right outside but people talking a block away, the tinkling of silver ware inside the restaurant two streets over, the cadence of Bruce's heartbeat as it picked up when he spoke, the onslaught of auditory stimuli came at him at full force, echoing in his ears. He told himself to focus on Bruce’s heartbeat in the same way his Mom had told him to just focus on hers to keep himself from being overwhelmed and gradually the sounds dropped off one by one.

 

As soon as the racket in his head quieted, Clark felt confident that he could get out of bed without his balance getting screwy. He stood up,returning Bruce's pensive gaze. His pale blue gray  eyes caught the reflection of  the bright billboard light outside his window while he watched Clark. 

 

"Why did you come here tonight?" He asked calmly.

 

Bruce moved two steps back. "I wanted answers.” Outside the city had fallen silent, the precious hour or two after the very late night folks have gone home and before the early morning denizens would come out.

 

"I have questions too. Why are you working with Lex Luthor?"

 

The frown on Bruce's face deepened, “You're investigating me?"

 

 _The schematics on your laptop, in your penthouse_. "I investigate everyone, Bruce. You let that thing loose in Metropolis yesterday that was your tech!”

 

"I don't have to explain _anything_ to you."

 

"Yes, you do especially when you’re putting people's lives at risk."

 

"I'm sorry, have you forgotten where you are _Clark_? You live in a city with an alien who has no accountability who can level half the world in two minutes if he happens to have a bad day." The words came out with biting sarcasm but the anger in them was unmistakable. The hate he felt from Bruce was as sharp and painful as the stones that cut through his skin earlier.

 

“Do you honestly believe that?” Clark closed his eyes trying to will away the frustration that was cresting inside him. He was starting to lose his fragile control over his senses -- extraneous minute sounds he could easily tune out began to echo once again inside his head. 

 

 “You could've just told me.” His words reverberated in the small place, bitter, pained.

 

He saw Bruce place his hands back inside his pockets. Maybe if his senses weren't so screwed up he would have heard the click, his reaction time was delayed by two seconds. Two seconds too long. Two cylinders the size of portable cell phone chargers dropped on the floor, a sudden bright flash filled the apartment followed by a powerful sonic blast designed for his sensitive hearing. He dropped to the floor writhing, almost paralyzed by the drilling pain that flared behind his eyes and onto his skull. As he slowly regained his bearings he gripped the side of his head as he staggered to stand, holding onto the wall.

 

"Bruce! What the hell!”

 

 His eyes were still bleary from intense flash; he could barely see.  He heard a low humming noise _outside_ his window, like the sound of an electric toothbrush against teeth. The bat jet. _Need to get out of here_. He crawled on the floor trying to make it to the front door. He stepped on something on the floor instinctively he knew it was his shield, he picked it up and decided to make a run for the door. Suddenly the windows broke, he heard something whoosh through as he finally reached his door.

 

THWUCK -- something hit the bare skin of his back, a heavy object about the size of his palm latched onto his skin.  Before he could remove it, the device released an electric charge. Initially, it felt like being struck by lightning. Clark had his share of lightning strikes while he flew. At full power this would be nothing but an annoying nuisance to Clark, but he was far from being at his full power right now. Upon contact his body spasmed so hard Clark was almost sure he would break every bone in his body. He screamed.

 

Clark fell on the floor as his body shook. But somehow through some small miracle despite how weak he was his heart did not stop. Grunting in pain he reached over his back and ripped off the device from his skin and crushed it in his hand. Clark could feel the extensive damage on his body from the electric shock, it had gone through skin, muscle and bone. Red, charred flesh edged red, charred muscles that exposed damaged tissue and bone. Tendrils of smoke were coming off him. The only good thing right now was that he wasn't dead yet.

 

He stayed on the floor while his consciousness drifted in then out before things went completely black.  He wasn’t sure how long he was down; it was still dark out when he opened his eyes. Grasping for support on the doorknob he stood up and surveyed the mess in his apartment. He looked at himself grateful that somehow his tissues had knitted together. But still he felt his body’s tenuous hold over his healed flesh. Clark managed to shake off the pain and ache in his body from the stunned muscles.

 

He was angry. "Bruce! You, idiot!"

 

Through his destroyed window he could see the bat signal illuminate the patch of dark sky above Gotham. He ran out, luckily his apartment was just next to the stairwell. His body still felt slow and heavy, with his full speed was not yet back. Reaching the roof, he touched the S shield on his chest activating his full suit. Clark ripped off the bandage on his hand, relief flooded through him when he saw that the wound had closed.

 

Clark shrugged loose the heaviness he felt. There was no doubt, Bruce needed to be stopped, he had gone too far. He clenched and unclenched his fist as he gathered his strength and pushed up against the roof, thankful when he felt his body move against gravity.

 

The rain that had threatened to fall all day finally came. Lightening flashed across the skies above Gotham and Metropolis as he reached the signal. He hovered near the jet as he scanned the area. A bulky figure stood in the middle of the long abandoned prison yard.

 

"I'm here," the electronic voice growled.

 

Clark dropped from the sky and walked towards him. He scanned the metal armor that Bruce wore.

 

“We need to talk!”

                                       _____________________

Elsewhere. “Mr. Luthor, Batman and Superman has just been spotted at Stryker's island.”

 

" I knew it! I knew it! Mercy I want the drones out there, and call our friend!’

                                      _____________________

 

As Clark stepped closer, multiple high caliber explosions erupted around him, although none of them pierced his skin, the impact from the high speed velocity still hurt. Annoyed, he fired quick bursts of his heat vision and destroyed them

 

Batman just watched him with the cold eyes of the mech suit.

 

"Not talking, huh!"

 

Clark did not want to kill Bruce, but as the fight progressed he began to doubt that resolve. Bruce had dispersed a deadly gas made from the meteorite from his planet. Tears filled his eyes as he felt his lungs close up. He could feel the minute particles quickly overwhelm his body. With his lungs fighting for air and the meteorite dust in his bloodstream, Clark could barely crawl, fighting became impossible, Bruce easily gained the upper hand. Batman was an unstoppable fighting machine, it took everything Clark had to just stay alive.

 

Somehow, to his relief his invulnerability reasserted itself, Clark slowly recovered from the gas. Bruce ended up with a cracked helmet and broken ribs. He almost broke his leg if it wasn’t for the protection of the mech suit. Amazingly, he was still able to stand.

 

"Bruce! I could kill you! Stop this!"

 

In the end, Clark just wanted it all to stop, his heart was not in it. There was a rage that ruled Bruce right now. In the split second in between deciding to just take Bruce in his arms and fly them out of there, Bruce had released a second canister of the lethal green gas. The cumulative effect of the injuries he just sustained and the second toxic insult to his lungs had the devastating effect on Clark. He lay on the ground barely able to breath much less move.

 

Bruce gripped the Kryptonite spear in his hand. The spear he had made from the green meteor from Addis Ababa. He pressed it hard on Clark’s cheeks. He felt his chest inflate as he saw blood ooze out of his perfect skin.  “The first generation of Waynes traded in pelts. They were hunters!” A bitter triumph edged his voice.

 

Victory was now his, this being, this thing, this alien brought down. Defeated, he pinned him down merely with one metal clad boot on his chest. Batman raised the  spear.

 

Suddenly the eyes of the alien opened and _it_ spoke to him, “Bruce. Please …don’t…”

 

Elsewhere shielded by the harsh rain and thunder, a figure in heavy military armor watched them. “Black or blue. I have bullets for you. What will it be. What will it be?”

 

Lawton, lined up his optics, the choice had made itself known. The sensors on his helmet zeroed in on his target. Luthor’s instructions were clear. Kill the last one standing. With the money that was paid to him. Lawton was only too happy to comply. Crazy men with money were his favorite clientele. He aimed his wrist mounted gun and fired.

 

The alien’s eyes were closed, it moaned as it lay on the ground. “Please…my mother.”

 

Bruce hefted the spear. The one percent chance would be eliminated.

 

A shot rang out, a bullet cut through rain and air. Its trajectory precisely calculated.

 

 Bruce brought down the spear.

 

The bullet whizzed close to his head.

 

_A mother? I don’t ....understand...._

 

The spear stood in the ground next to Clark’s chest.

 

_I can’t ...._

 

In the same breath, something shifted around Bruce’s head, there was a barely perceptible movement in the air as Clark’s hand suddenly came up in front of Bruce’s forehead. Startled, Bruce stepped back, thinking the alien was about to hit him.

 

“Look.” Clark gasped out, he had caught something, he opened his hand and threw an armor piercing bullet near Bruce’s foot, before he lost consciousness.

 

Bruce looked down and his mind quickly made connections to figure out what just happened. That bullet was for him.

 

"Jet! NOW " he yelled into his communicator. The bat jet on autopilot broke through the walls as the another shot rang out, missing him. Bruce picked up Clark's limp body and the spear got into the jet. It hovered then sped up, it's cloaking tech enabled. At the last moment he had disabled the tracking on the jet so Alfred could not find him. He had piloted the jet to another cave.

  

Lawton swore quietly under his mask, for the first time in a long time he didn’t get his mark. It was a very odd experience. His reputation was built on the fact he never missed. He was pretty sure there for a moment that the Bat would kill Superman, which would leave him to kill Batman. But at then he didn't. He rubbed the Kryptonite bullet between his fingers, he needed to go underground before Luthor starts asking for his money back.

 

Luthor's drone that had followed them crashed on the ground when the Kryptonian used his heat vision. It's broken camera transmitted static filled images of the fight, as he watched the Bat subdue Superman, he felt a certain completion of his purpose an elevation of his being. The defeat of a God in the hands of the Dark Knight. The Dark Knight to fall by a Pawn's bullet.

 

The image flickered with Batman holding the spear over Superman, the Bat lowering his arm piercing the skin of the alien’s face .... before the camera finally blacked out.

 

 When the drone came online again, all l he saw was  darkness and rain.

 

 _Fuck! Where were the_ y?

 

 

                                       

* * *

 

 

 

 

Finally, third grade was officially over! He had to control himself from leaping out of the bus as the bus rolled to a stop next on the dirt road leading to their house. Shelby jumped at him to greet him her tail wagging at full speed. The pure joy of school finally ending just made him want to leap over everything, for at least two months he won't be that "weirdo". He ran through their property and through the gap in a fence to another open field, up to a hill, then down again, Shelby happily bounding after him. In his excitement, he didn’t pay attention to where he ran. Suddenly he stopped when he realized he was far from the farm, he didn’t recognize this field.

 

There were no crops here it was all brown wheat stubble and wild grass and brambles. It was too late when Clark saw the hole in the ground, the next thing he knew his feet touched nothing, his body pitched forward as he fell then landed hard on the ground. Shelby barked at the hole he had fallen into and whined for a minute. He picked himself up slowly, dusting his clothes off with his hands-- he didn't want Ma to be upset. Through the hole the sun casted a pale light on the spot where he stood otherwise it was dark. He looked around, there was a wall of gray to light gray rocks and weeds on the ground where the light hit. He wasn't scared, but he knew Ma and Pa will look for him, he could jump out of the hole although it was taller than Pa, twice as much.

 

The faint light caught something shiny along the rock wall, curious he wanted to check it out before going back home. These rocks were dark green almost black, as big as two footballs, he saw there was a part of it that glowed. It looked like a couple of giant bubbles and smaller ones were stuck together. He moved closer and passed his hand over it carefully, he liked how it felt smooth and knobby in places and the green glow was kinda cool. He wondered if he could take a piece of it to bring home.  Suddenly his fingers felt strange, somehow he couldn't feel the rock anymore, his hand couldn't feel _anything_ anymore. Then a sharp pain hit him, it travelled from his fingertips to his whole arm, then he just felt strange. Weak. _Was he sick?_  Sick, as he imagined being sick would be like when he has to help Ma or Pa when they have the flu, or when his friend, Pete threw up in school.

 

Clark's stomach twisted and his insides pulled. He tried to jump, but he couldn’t. His legs gave way, his knees hit the jagged rocks on the ground. The sharp rocks scraped his skin below his cargo shorts he rubbed it with his hand on instinct and saw blood. Pa, is going to be so mad, he thought. Then more of the pain came, like something was eating his insides. And oh please, please, just let it stop. He looked up, everything was blurry, he could see the outline of Shelby's head up there somewhere, she whimpered then barked into the hole, the sound echoing around him. “Shelby! Shelby! Get Pa!" he croaked. Then what little sunlight there was, disappeared and he couldn't hear Shelby anymore.

 

                                               

* * *

 

Little by little awareness rippled through his senses. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him. Sharp, shooting pain ripped within him. It hurt, it hurt so much he felt his head would burst. His entire body shook violently as waves upon waves of the sharp, ripping, burning hurt coursed through him. After squeezing his eyes to gather himself, he opened them and looked around him. No wonder he felt so awful. It didn't help that he was bound by manacles by his wrists strung up in chains above him. The balls of his feet barely touching the cold concrete. He felt the rare cold sweat on his brow. It took everything within him not to cry out. It hurt to even breath. Every breath felt like he was inhaling sawdust. There was no doubt about it it was still in his bloodstream. Poison from the green meteorite rock from his home.

 

He was bare from the waist up, somehow his uniform took on a grayish color. The cape lost. His uniform seemed inert. He wondered briefly if the bio suit was reacting to the meteorite substance inside him, since he wasn’t generating a bioelectric field.  He could see it torn as if somebody forcibly ripped it off him. Great. What a time to have a wardrobe malfunction.

 

He knew he was there watching him in the shadows.

 

“Who's Shelby?” His voice was cold, mechanical.

 

“My dog.” He took another deep breath trying to stave away the pain from his strained muscles. “Black and white border collie. Very loyal. Ever had a dog Bruce?” he asked calmly.

 

He stepped out of the shadows, his broken mech helmet in his hand and laid it carefully on the table. His eyes were dark, soulless.

 

“How can you be him?"

 

"I could say that Clark Kent is who I am and Superman is what I can do, but I don't think that's your real question Bruce or do you prefer Batman?" Weak, chained with an alloy, he knew were made from the same meteorite that made him powerless. Clark Kent, Kal-El of Krypton was certain he was about to die.

 

“You caught the bullet.” He growled at him once again.

 

 

He scoffed. "Yeah, a character flaw of mine. _Not_ wanting people to actually die.” He took a moment to breath. “Bruce, please just let me go. Luthor, is up to something. I have to stop him.”

 

Silence.

 

He studied the man before him. _Is he really a man?_ He should have known from how perfect he was, that he wasn't. Tied up like this strained all the muscles in his body. Bruce could only imagine what his weakened body was going through. But even as he suffered Clark was beautiful, marble skin over lean muscles, Michelangelo's David. Young and untainted. Yet, his mind argued was this really Clark?

 

Clark watched him warily, “Bruce, you have to listen!” He pleaded weakly.

 

He moved closer, he didn't seem to hear Clark as he traced the wound on his cheek. Bruce grasped him by his hair, roughly. He touched those perfect cheekbones. He had marked him with his spear, slashed half of his face with a long gaping wound. He wondered briefly how long it would stay, if it would scar. Clark winced at his touch, the pressure of his metal fingers stung. He wanted to say something but the fatigue probably from the poison overwhelmed him. Once again he sunk into a feverish haze.

 

 It seemed every piece of control was continually being wrested from Bruce. The integrity of his mind was being pulled apart by by so many forces; adrenaline from the fight; heat from all the anger; anger he felt from Clark's deception; anger at himself felt for being drawn to him. Anger for letting his guard down. Anger for not seeing who he really was.  He was the enemy; he had made it his mission to kill him. But then he was also Clark. No he wasn't Clark, according to Zod, he is the alien Kal-El. One of _them._

 

Clark was able to open his eyes once again, breathing was still hard and the cycle of pain just waxed and waned but never truly went away. Bruce was still there in armor no cowl. He looked down on himself and saw bruises, torn skin, His sides hurt, he must have broken a rib, that would further explain the breathing. Injuries from the fight that had started healing earlier stopped because of the exposure to green meteorite once again. Some of the lacerations still oozed dark red blood. There was dried blood on some of them. He tugged at his restraints.

 

"Coming from a guy dressed in black leather I shouldn't be surprised." He said, his voice weak and raspy.

 

“The metal is from that thing in the Indian Ocean, the composition is slightly different from the pieces we found here in Metropolis. We mixed it with element K. Kryptonite.”

 

 “I feel so much at home now.” He paused. “Kryptonite? That’s what we’re calling it?” He asked quietly, slowly.

 

Bruce answered the other question in his head. “Chunks of it came with the terraformer.  It was the only substance that could cut through Kryptonian steel.  Luthor was hoarding it, I saw in his files he had uncovered something about what else it can do.  It made sense, it comes from your world. Now we are sure it doesn’t only cut Kryptonian steel.”

 

“Are you going to tell Luthor?”

 

 _Luthor? He was a different problem_. Moments passed before he spoke again. “Did you know?”

 

Clark knew what he meant. "No. I didn't." _It's more complicated than that_...

 

But somehow he knew deep within him the secret that Bruce tried to hide. He saw it in the scars that Bruce laughed off from “heli-skiing”, “accidents.” The pulled muscles, the limp he tried to hide from Clark. The smell of gunpowder that lingered in his skin, that only his sensitive senses picked out. The newly healed wounds he had to be extra careful of when he touched him. The dark dreams that woke him up at night. But he could never tell Bruce this, that it was all there for him to see but a part of him had refused to realize it for what it was.

 

"You did not even try to look?"

 

"No.” He coughed a dry, harsh cough. He twisted his wrist trying to find relief from the raw soreness of his skin.

 

"It would’ve have been easier, Bruce? If I looked?"  _If nobody lied._

 

Bruce did not answer instead he slammed his gauntleted hand in the table in front of him. It smashed whatever equipment and tools were there.

 

Clark remained unperturbed by Bruce's rage, steeling his breaths as pain wracked through his body again. After another bout of coughing he lifted his head looking straight at Bruce’s eyes.

 

“Was anything real?" Bruce asked.

 

"How could you even ask that?”

 

"How could you not...?"

 

Despite himself Clark laughed. A harsh derisive laugh, strange coming from Clark. “We could do this all night Bruce. Lies. Betrayals. How could yous. I have a job to do. You've convinced yourself you have a job to rid the world of a menace like me. If I told you would it have mattered? Or would you have killed me after you fucked me?"

 

He winced again. Tremors shook his body, intensifying the pain. His weakened body trying to fight the poison. But being down here in the dark and the cold, there was no relief. More cold sweat broke through his forehead. He began to shake. He could taste the blood from his nose trailing down to his lips.

 

Bruce looked at him. Cold calculating eyes. Batman's eyes. He might as well have been staring at the cowl's opaque lenses. Another betrayal. Maybe dying earlier would have been easy.

 

” I wanted to tell you all that time. But I did not want you to look at me like the way you’re looking at me right now. Bruce, you placed bugs--"

 

"Because it was my way of protecting you, because I thought you needed it! You mattered to me. I thought...I thought... I found—” he faltered, his voice shook. “No wonder you're so different you're a fucking alien.”

 

“Bruce I'm ---“

 

“No! You don't get to do that. You don't get to say you're sorry.”

 

Clark swallowed. The taste of blood mixed with spit did nothing to relieve his sandpaper throat, "What about you Bruce? Are you judge, jury and executioner? What gave _you_ the right?"

 

“I have every right. MY city, MY rules, and if I could stop something like you from happening again. I have every fucking right.”

 

“Damn it! I can't change anything! Is killing me is going to make a difference? You should listen to yourself. I did not want any of this to happen. I could still hear their cries, the screams, Bruce. There isn't a day --” He needed to take another breath before he could continue, “I wished things were different. The only thing I could do now is help. Every day I try to make things right. I know for everyone who died, for everyone who lost somebody it will never be enough!”

 

He remembered how Clark reacted when he saw the pictures on the wall of his apartment. He thought he it was real empathy. That time seemed so long ago and so far, a reality far removed from where they are right now.

 

“IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH!!” The anger and pain that smoldered in Bruce's chest began to escalate once more. Something darker seized him, the room spun, the gray walls swirled with the dark spaces of the cave. Clark’s face had morphed with the gray and black of the cave into a snarling angry creature with demon red eyes. He must stop him now. This is his true nature, Kal-El, revealed to him like what the bats had warned. He wrapped his gauntleted hands around his neck and squeezed. He felt the alien gasp and thrash under his hands.

 

Between the restraints and the gauntlets, Clark's vision blurred as he struggled to breath. Dying now would not solve anything. Killing him will not save Bruce.

 

There was only one chance. Clark concentrated as hard as he could, focusing in an area under Bruce's ear. The smell of burned flesh seared the air when he aimed a flash of heat vision at Bruce. With a yelp Bruce let go, Clark's head fell forward violently at the sudden release.

 

Clark wheezed loudly as soon as air filled his lungs again. His entire body tensed, he grunted and twisted against the chains. A wave of nausea assaulted him, he retched and heaved, spitting up bile--doubling the pain that burned through him. The entire effort used up what little energy he had left. Eyes closed he leaned against his arm as he moaned, limp and weak against the chains.

 

“You think you know how it is to be us because you look like us. Pretend to be one of us! Pretend to feel the pleasure, pretend to feel the pain! Bruce thundered.

 

Clarks eyes fluttered open long dark lashes against pale cheeks.” Bruce, I never pretended,” he whispered. He grunted loudly this time as another spasm of pain shot through his body, he writhed against his restraints. His body twisted and strained once again.

 

Bruce was mesmerized at the raw sight before him. Clark’s struggles did something to him. It started as a low heat in his groin that he wanted to push out, yet it churned thick and hot. As he watched him it fanned the glowing embers that roiled within his belly. Loathing and lust had twisted together. He was standing on a precipice, Batman is not about this, a part of him argued. But is he still Batman? After 20 years? After the Joker? After Jason? After Wayne Tower?

 

Clark, no _the alien, Superman_ _…Kal—El_ was sweating. The sheen of sweat gleamed against his skin. Bruce removed his gauntlet and with his finger followed a trickle from his neck to his nipple. Kal-El twitched. He twisted the dark nipple with his fingers, he had felt those nipples pebble under his touch. Now once again they formed hard nubs. Kal-El moaned softly at the pressure, his eyes closed, his heavy breaths molded skin over well defined muscles. The trickle made its slow journey to the wall of muscles on his stomach disappearing into the dark hair below his navel. He had pulled Superman’s uniform off him. The strange material changed as its owner grew weaker, it seemed to yield more to his hands. It always amazed him how it clung to to the alien enhancing his perfection. It hugged the bulge of his cock. Bruce placed a hand over it and pressed on it hard, squeezing his testicles. He felt how it grew harder and harder under his touch. Kal-El's arousal, the gasps and moans fanned the perverted lust within him.

 

“Do want to know how it feels to be a man, _Kal-El_.  Now you don't have to pretend! You will feel everything, like this,” Bruce's breath gusted into his ear.

 

Bruce grasped his suit and pulled it down further down to his legs. Superman's suit giving way under his hands. The Kryptonian exposed. Powerless.

 

“Don’t …Please.” Clark begged.

 

Bruce blinked. Clark's face with Clark's voice. He had possessed Clark, but Clark is Superman. Superman is the alien. Superman must be possessed, must learn a lesson. This is being human. To be helpless. Didn’t he want this? His maddened thoughts reasoned. He must have both. He needed to have both. Maybe he was like Luthor after all. In their own way they were all very determined to subdue power, subdue a god.

 

Bruce grasped his hard cock and palmed his tight balls. “You think you’re above us! No, Kal-El, look at how your body betrays you.”

 

“Bruce! This isn’t you.” But even as he protested. There was truth to Bruce’s words as he felt his body give in. As Clark hovered in the brink of death itself, he could not deny the surge of his body's response to Bruce's touch. He could not deny beneath all of this madness–somehow –is the man he cared for.

 

Before Bruce could stop himself, he backhanded him once more. The gash from the spear that had stopped bleeding, ripped once again, the wound bled freely. The skin broke on the lips. Lips, that he once kissed and worshipped, bright red blood bloomed from it.

 

 _Red... like... ours ...Clark’s... NO... Superman’s...blood ...why..._ Brucestaredas itdripped thick, painting the gray floor, crimson.

 

The impact swung his entire body backwards. As his body twisted, slivers of pain ripped through him. He couldn’t help it, he cried out.

 

"Aghhh…”

 

The pained sounds that Clark made pushed Bruce over the edge. He pushed a button on his belt then stripped off the rest of his armor. Another button released the solid metal that kept Clark suspended to the ceiling. He fell forward on his knees hitting the cold floor with another pained gasp. His wrists still bound by the unyielding manacles that sapped his strength. The skin around it had become black veined with sickly green pallor.  Something sharp stabbed his side-- his broken ribs had dug further inside him. Another cry of pain was pulled out of his chest not just physical but from within him. For himself, for Bruce.

 

Bruce pushed him down and straddled him from behind. Clark tried to kick but couldn't, his uniform around his ankles effectively binding him. The struggle to breath magnified by the burning in lungs from the Kryptonite and his injuries. He tried to twist his body, but it was all futile. Bruce was too strong while he had become weaker.

 

Bruce pushed him down once again as he struggled. This time he slammed him hard on the cold floor. This body beneath him, burnished with sweat and blood  with muscles that rippled and tensed, writhing helplessly on the ground. Down here in the dirt with him.  It was intoxicating. Not a god, not David anymore, he was as tainted and as filthy as him. He has dragged his light, into his darkness.

 

 The dark knight's hands parted his opening roughly and he entered him mercilessly, tearing into now vulnerable flesh. Clark's hip bucked, his bloodied hands fisted and he slammed them on the cold concrete in frustration. He bit back a cry. Although there was nothing else he desired more than ever right now, but to scream. Bruce began to snap his hips forward. He pounded into him with all the rage he had held back. There was no going back at this point, he had let go of his fragile sanity.

 

In this agonized haze of trying not to feel yet feeling everything, Clark felt his cock rub raw against the rough concrete each time Bruce pushed. Sensitive, yet aroused skin scraping, twin sensations of torture and morbid pleasure twisted with humiliation as Bruce drove into him, slamming himself inside him. Tears streamed from helplessness and pain from his broken body and the pain of his broken heart. He grasped at a slim hope and reached within him to gain purchase. With all his strength he twisted to his back. Bruce fell backwards, shocked.

 

“No. No!” Clark said, though his throat felt dry and raw his voice was firm and unwavering. His blue eyes on his swollen and bleeding face became more vivid as his gaze pierced at Bruce.

 

“ _You_ will see me. _You_ will look at me as you do this, Bruce. And you will _know_.” He strung the words together, as sharp pain stabbed his body once again, bound arms over his head, his body arched with the spasms. And he felt never felt so cold.

 

Bruce panted, looked at him wildly then fell on him. Violence unfettered. He kissed with fierce hunger, biting into his lips, his neck, everywhere. Clark laid beneath him on the cold concrete; letting Bruce take, take everything he could give him, everything he wanted, everything he needed.

 

He felt Bruce's brutal mouth suck and bite drawing blood with his teeth. He felt all of Bruce's weight brutally pinning him down as strong arms twisted his wrists--bare skin against bare skin, solid cocks rubbed harder and harder against each other. Bruce pushed his legs apart, splayed him open, pushed into him, his unforgiving, unrelenting thrusts became deeper and deeper.

 

 _Mine. All mine. Human under my touch._ Bruce thoughts swirled inside the abyss in his head.

 

“Bruce, look at me.” Clark’s voice broke through, barely a whisper while his body shook. 

 

Bruce looked down and saw Superman watch him, tears in his eyes. _No. Kal-El. No_. _Clark_. Clark’s bound hands were in front of him, pressed on Bruce’s chest, a firm touch yet gentle.

 

“Bruce. It’s me. Just me.”

 

“Clark!” A name torn out from his chest; out of brokenness; out of rage; out of God only knows what.

 

His cock pulsed within his warm, wet and tight hole. Pulsed until he filled him to the brim with his hot semen, until he spilled out. Finally, Bruce trembled once more, and collapsed on top of him. Moments passed when he finally raised himself up. His skin was warm and sticky with their cum, sweat and Clark’s blood.

 

Clark lay under him bound hands over his chest. His head tilted to one side with eyes closed. A sickly green tinge over his very pale skin. He touched him and he remained still and felt _cold_. His body's release cracked the solid darkness in his mind. A feeling of dread curled along Bruce's spine, its gnarled fingers twisted icy and dug deep into the guts of his stomach. The clouds lifted. The darkness that hid, crept back, revealing everything.

 

_You will see. You will know._

 

“Clark! Clark!”

 

He shook him harder, “Clark!’

 

There was no answer.

 

 

 

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

 

I apologize for the dark. This was really a difficult chapter to write. 

Also although I love the movie please be aware I'm writing fan fiction, therefore just playing around with a different take. So this fic does not follow BvS closely, I really am just using it as a loose framework. 

Thanks for reading. Kudos and constructive comments are appreciated.

 


	5. Part 2 Ties That Bind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You all for all your kudos and comments. I appreciated the concern you guys had for Bruce and Clark, especially Clark.  
> Sorry for the delayed update. And for this update we have a guest.

 

 

 

>  

 

**NOW**

 

“CLARK! Clark!” Like a mad man he took off the manacles on Clark’s wrist. He knelt next to him and held him in his arms.

 

He tapped his comm, “Alfred!”

 

“Sir.”

 

“Prepare the med bay. It’s Clark, he’s hurt, Alfred.”

 

Alfred could hear the desperation on his voice. The only other time he could remember Bruce sounded like that was when Jason died. Bruce put on his suit as fast as he could, he picked up his cape, and wrapped Clark tightly in it.

 

 _What are you doing Bruce? You won! This was your mission Bruce! End him now!_ Once again the voices in his head plagued him. Bruce pressed a fist on his forehead, trying to quiet them.

 

_Focus, Bruce. Save him._

Clark’s chest wasn’t moving at all. However invulnerable Clark was, Bruce knew that there was a possibility he might have killed him. Training took over. _Check pulse. Check breathing. Start CPR_. He placed his finger over where the carotid artery should be, _in humans_. There was something there very faint. He pumped his chest then gave him some breaths over his mouth.  What was he doing? What’s normal for a Kryptonian? Was he helping him at all? _He has no idea how to help Clark!_ _Fuck!_

 

He bundled him in his cape and belted him inside the jet. He could not fly fast enough. Finally, he reached the lake entrance to the cave. As soon as he landed the jet Alfred was waiting for him with a gurney.

 

As soon as Alfred saw Clark’s face, a sudden realization came over him, “Sir, it's Superman.”

 

Bruce looked up at him, his face streaked with tears, “Yes, he’s Clark. Alfred please help me.”

 

Alfred was gut punched. Bruce had set out to do what he said he would do. He went to war with a god. Now this alien he had hated and the man he cared for, one and the same, it was a cruel fate. Right when he thought Bruce had gained some semblance of happiness.

 

“Sir, he’s going to be fine. I'll make sure.”

 

Bruce nodded automatically, clinging to the promise of his guardian's words. Methodically they worked side by side, emergency care that had unfortunately become a necaesarry part of their lives over the years. Alfred placed the oxygen mask on him and inserted the intravenous cannula into his arm, to deliver fluids. The sight twisted Bruce’s gut once again. Nothing should be able to pierce Clark’s skin.

 

Bruce grasped Clark’s hand. “What can I do? Tell me.” He can still fix this he reasoned if Clark would just tell him. But there was still a part of him the horrible voices that said, _You won... you won... you can't fix him... he'll die too... you did this..._

 

Clark’s lips started to move. He leaned in further and could barely make out what he was trying to say.

 

“Sun…”

 

 He focused his mind, recalling what Dr. Wells team had said about Clark. Krypton. The star system had a red sun. Could it be? The yellow sun made him stronger, better than all of them. Both him and Luthor knew the terrifying secret of how to end him, now Bruce knew the real secret to his power.

 

“Alfred we need to move him upstairs. He needs sunlight."

 

Two hours later, they had brought up equipment from the bat cave into the room next to Bruce’s and placed Clark in a hospital bed there. Although most of the house had floor to ceiling glass walls, this room provided the most sunlight with privacy. While waiting for ample sunlight they had aimed all the available solar light sources they had on his skin. They left his skin baresave for a white sheet that covered his groin.

 

“I think he's breathing better and he feels warmer.” Alfred said encouragingly as they settled down.

 

While he stood next to Clark's bed as dawn started to creep up the horizon,  Bruce remembered how cold Clark was, the green pallor on his skin, how he almost killed him… the things he had done. Bruce rubbed his face with the palm of his hands, both him and Alfred had worked nonstop. He was still wearing the Under Armor that he wore under the Bat suit. Nobody spoke for a time. The steady cadence of the beeping monitors along with the efficient hum of various equipment provided a soothing accompaniment to the silence.

 

“Bruce, look at me.” Tired, he turned towards Alfred meeting his eyes.

 

“It is one thing when you go after criminals. Drug dealers, slave traders, child predators and hurt them. Bruce, I saw his injuries when we cleaned him…” Alfred stated in his usual calm and elegant timber.

 

He saw Alfred tighten his fist his knuckles turning white. He shouldn't have been surprised with what came next.

 

Alfred slapped him heavily clear across his face. The sound of Alfred’s hand hitting his skin echoed around them like a whip. Bruce fell backward, holding onto Clark's bed for support, as he got his bearings he passed a hand over his face to soothe the pain. Bruce felt his face throb with the impact. Alfred could hit, he worked with the Royal Marines before his life with the Waynes. The last time Alfred had laid a hand on him, he had just started being Batman. They had argued and Bruce had said hurtful things.

 

“The most reprehensible act. Have I not taught you anything!" Alfred paused and drew a breath, yet his voice still shook when he spoke. "Every day I wonder if I failed your parents. And you do this … Now there is no doubt I have failed them indeed.”

 

“I was so angry.” Bruce said in a low voice, red rimmed eyes turned to Alfred.

 

Alfred stared at the small burn below Bruce’s left ear. “The fact that you are still alive, speaks more highly of him than you. You are going to make this right.”

 

“Alfred— “

 

“Sir. It might be better if you leave for now, clean yourself, eat. Rest. I’ll watch over him.”

 

Alfred did not even look at him, instead he focused on the heart monitor attached to Clark as he made notations on his tablet.

 

Alfred’s slap brought him out of the tunnel he was in. A place in his head that allowed him to deal with what he had done. He had pushed himself to concentrate on what he needed to do, save Clark, the tunnel shielding him from the guilt, from visions of Clark's face, the voices. He ran to the showers and stripped himself. Cum and blood had stuck to his skin, silently accusing him.  Bruce leaned his head against the tiles, sobs shook his body as hot water poured on his back. As he stared at the tiles, a memory supplanted the image before his eyes.

_They just had a round of lazy sex. Bruce sat up leaning against the bed reading on his tablet. Clark’s large frame was impossibly curled up next to him, his eyes closed, his head next to Bruce’s hip. He had one hand on Clark’s head, every now and then he would stroke his fingers through Clark’s hair._

_Go to sleep, Bruce. Clark had murmured sleepily._

_Shhh. I’m working._

_You're always working._

_Bruce didn't answer. Clark became still next to him; he could feel his quiet breaths of sleep. He mussed his hair gently and leaned over to inhale his scent. He smelled of sunshine and … oranges. Bruce lost his train of thought for a while, a pleased hum escaped from his lips._

_Clark shifted closer to him and placed an arm across his thighs._

_I love you too, he whispered._

_Bruce had stopped playing with his hair and looked down on him. He wondered if he imagined it._

_Clark? He had asked calmly but he was suddenly so aware of how his breath had hitched and the way his heart thumped hard against his chest. He couldn't answer him. He had no answer for him._

_Clark shifted his body once again and just sighed softly with his eyes closed._

_Clark? Bruce said again, this time he thought he sounded as terrified as he felt._

_Shhh…it's ok. Just let it be._

And they did. It was one of those mornings that Clark had to leave early while Bruce slept. What was said and how he felt never came up again.

 

He came out from the shower and dressed. Alfred raised an eyebrow at him as he approached Clark’s bed. “I’m not going away Alfred. I know what I did. I need to be here…please.”

 

Suddenly, Clark moved twisting in the bed, his entire body turned rigid and then shook. He was making pained grunts, his breathing shallow and rapid.

 

“No, no,” he spoke desperately in his sleep. His entire body writhing miserably.

 

Bruce placed his arms around his chest restraining him enough so he wouldn’t fall out of the bed.

 

“God! Alfred!”

 

“I’ll give him some diazepam.” Alfred tapped out the syringe with the medication, before calmly injecting it into the IV. “I don’t know what good this will do, with his physiology.”

 

Bruce felt the medicine didn’t do anything for interminable amount of time. The tremors continued. He was also making pained choking sounds in his throat, sobbing almost.

 

_Bad dreams. He’s reliving everything I did to him._

Alfred quadrupled the dose of the diazepam. Bruce moved closer placing his upper body on top of Clark’s, he whispered desperately into his ear, “Clark, I’m so sorry. Please... Clark. Please…calm down.’

 

 Clarks breaths slowed down and he fell into deep sleep. Relief washed over them. They agreed on a schedule and began taking turns watching over him while the other rested. He had another episode of tremors and nightmares, this time it required a higher dose of diazepam. Both of them abandoned the schedule, Alfred and Bruce stayed by his side the entire time. Rest was the farthest thing from Bruce's mind even when Clark slept once again. He never felt so useless as he paced up and down the room.

 

Finally, Alfred was exasperated, “Sir, either you stop pacing or I will have you rearrange the furniture.”

 

Bruce stopped, “I’m going to Wayne Labs, I’ll speak to Shay.” Initially they didn’t want to involve anybody else not only trust was an issue but secrets like these were also dangerous for everyone else who kept it. But now, Bruce felt they might need Dr. Veritas' help to get through this.

 

Both of them knew that if they were to trust somebody else, Dr. Shay Veritas would be that person. She knew about Batman and as Wayne labs head scientist, she’ll be able to provide valuable input. Alfred looked at him knowingly, “We should keep everything off our servers. Alright, Sir. Good luck."

 

Bruce came back with with Dr. Veritas in tow and enough equipment for a small hospital. She had been apprised of the situation when Bruce met her at Wayne Labs. They had an agreement not to have any computer or paper trail.

 

“It’s really him,” she gasped. She eagerly walked over to the Clark and peered at him. She took out her stethoscope and other equipment and started examining him. She moved the sheet that covered him and smiled widely. Bruce glared at her. Dr. Veritas who was never intimidated with Bruce or even Batman glared back.

 

“I need to be thorough.” She smirked at him. Her expression turned serious, “I need to look at whatever tissue samples you have, I can swab his mouth for fluid. I doubt we can get blood – his skin already pushed out the IV that you inserted. Unless—" She looked at Bruce expectantly, I can make something from the Kryptonite. It’ll be a very small amount, just for the tip of the needle.”

 

Although he hated the idea, he knew that they needed access to his bloodstream, at the very least they won’t be totally helpless when he has another seizure like attack. _They’re nightmares Bruce of what you did to him._ The voice in his head once again accused him.

 

“We should also consider moving him to the labs,” she said carefully. “We have the equipment to analyze–"

 

“Shay–" he was weary but the tone in his voice was firm, “You can make your needle, but we keep him here. We can’t even put anything in the lab’s server. Bringing him to the lab has too many uncontrollable variables.”

 

Dr. Veritas pursed her lips she hated the limitations but Bruce had a point, there was too much at stake. Any information they had on Superman could be sold in the black market easily for millions of dollars. The trust that Bruce placed on her was immeasurable. She not only carried Bruce’s secret but now Superman’s. There was nothing else she wanted but to be able to do the most detailed study of an alien genome from a live specimen. To answer fundamental questions like how humans and Kryptonians looked so similar yet were clearly different; what made Kryptonians better? Yet having Superman helpless like that in her lab, presented extremely dangerous problems— if anyone in the media would find out the resulting shit storm would be spectacular. If the government gets wind of the situation they’ll probably try to invoke an anti-terrorism clause just to get his body and that’s just the imbeciles in the government, there’s the military and certain black ops groups; of course Amanda Waller…the thought of those sent shudders up her spine.

 

But still, he had become her patient, “Do you think what we have here is enough?”

 

"Yes.” _We are all that he needs_. "He just needs time, Shay.”

 

“But Bruce what if they come here? What if they do a search and find …the other things you hide here? Then it is not only your lives at stake, yours and Alfred’s, you could lose your company. At least if they find him in lab, I could just say, I found him or something like that, it’s easier for you to deny everything.”

 

“I am responsible for all of this Shay. You and Alfred know this. I’m not moving him.”

 

“Ok, guilt. Bruce, I get that, you almost killed him with the Kryptonite. But don’t you think your judgment is clouded.”

 

 _She doesn't  know what else he did to Clark. If she did, she will probably hate him._ "No, things have never been clearer.”

 

All this time, Bruce’s eyes had never left Superman. There was something else going on there. Dr. Shay Veritas was hit with the sudden understanding – to the puzzle that was Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne cared for him, perhaps more than that. She stifled a smile. She would have unleashed the most caustic, snide remarks which was her usual way of dealing with Bruce if this was any other time, but this wasn’t any other time, there was pain (the man was impossible) lots of it. In his quest to destroy this alien, something else happened she was willing to bet her new Titan electron microscope on it.

 

To Bruce’s surprise she walked up to him and hugged him tightly.

 

“Alright Bruce, I’ll make this work.”

 

They worked steadily for hours, letting Alfred rest. They transferred him to a bed that can automatically turn him at regular intervals to maximize solar exposure. Dr. Veritas brought in more adequate solar lamps. She also brought in solar panels to focus all the natural sunlight on him. It was like a scene from a mad doctor’s lab.

 

The new settings on the solar lamps and panels had encouraging results when she analyzed his tissue. Maybe Bruce was right, Superman just needed time.

 

Early in the afternoon, Alfred came up from the bat cave and together with Dr. Veritas firmly sent Bruce to rest. Bruce went quietly to his room, sleep was the farthest thing in his mind, he had been in situations where he had less. With his own personal tablet plugged into the house’s systems he monitored Clark.

 

Night came and Clark remained unconscious. Dr. Veritas had intravenous fluids infusing into his bloodstream via the Kryptonite tipped IV cannula his arm, in case he needed hydration and hopefully it would also aid in flushing the poison out of his system. This was all theoretical of course, basing it on the idea that Kryptonian physiology though they worked differently in a molecular level compared to humans there was still some basic similarities.

 

Bruce hated that he was so still, though he wasn’t a restless sleeper Bruce remembered how he would shift in bed every now and then, he would move to his side facing Bruce his face tilted towards him, his messed up wavy hair framing his beautiful face. He felt the need to touch him to assure himself that he was alive.  Hospital monitoring equipment did not work on him. His heart rate was at a constant 30 beats per minute. His blood pressure could not be measured Bruce suspected it was a very low number too. Shay had said that they will just have to rely on more clinical signs to chart his progress e.g. his wounds have healed and his chest is moving were the most obvious things.

 

Despite Alfred’s disapproval, he went out to patrol. He needed it now more than ever. That night he was a relentless force of nature. He drove himself harder, hit harder, and left more criminals battered and bloodied more than any other night. Searing the bat brand on their skins served to only to dull the pain and guilt. What only stopped him was the sun peeking over the bay.

 

* * *

 

 

Bruce came home, showered and dressed quickly. In Clark’s room he methodically checked the data in the monitor. Alfred silently handed him a cup of tea.

 

“Thank You.”

 

“Nothing has changed.”

 

“Did he have another attack?”

 

“No.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“Dr. Veritas left early with a stern admonishment that you don’t upset her patient or damage her equipment or she will, according to her words ‘rip you a new one.’ “

 

In one corner of the room, the TV was tuned into a news channel. The emotionless voice of the anchor caught their attention as he read the news;

 

“----This week’s earthquake in Columbia has caused the Nazcan fault lines to shift causing multiple earthquakes and tidal waves along the South American coasts. There is no sign of Superman who was instrumental in the rescue of victims during the Colombian earthquake….

 

“---- We have reports that there had been an explosion in the cruise ship Costa del Sol--- the cruise ship carrying 4568 people had suddenly deviated from a planned route at Isola del Giglio for unknown reasons, thirty minutes later there was a distress call that reported an explosion and a large fire…….”

 

Both Bruce and Alfred looked up at TV monitor. Bruce placed his arms across his chest, his lips pursed—Alfred noticed his quick glance at Clark.

 

Alfred sighed deeply, “I will be downstairs if you need me.”

 

Bruce sat on a chair next to the bed. Head bent inside a tent formed by his hands. He looked at Clark. He’s just sleeping, healing in his own way—Bruce told himself. After what happened, after what he had done. He could’ve killed him. He took his hand and kissed it gently.

 

“Clark, just come back please.”

 

Dr. Veritas came back in the middle of the day and resumed her watch. Bruce had to make an appearance at a meeting in Wayne Enterprises. He could barely concentrate during the meeting. As soon as it was done he bolted out of the board room. Lucius Fox his CEO, accustomed to his erratic moods and lifestyle let him be and made the extra effort to talk to the other board members. Bruce reached his office, he was prevented from opening the door by a very irate looking, very attractive, petite red head who firmly planted herself in between the door and him.

 

“Lois Lane,” he said with a touch of amusement, automatically shifting to his Bruce Wayne public persona.

 

“I’m sorry Mr. Wayne,” his secretary was right behind him obviously trying to stop her but had failed.

 

“It’s ok, Miranda.”

 

Lois glared at him. “Where is he?”

 

“Hello, to you too. Please come in, Miss Lane. I always have time for the Metropolis media.” He grinned at her wolfishly mostly for the benefit of his staff.

 

Lois gave him a disgusted look before following Bruce into his office.

 

He leaned against his desk lazily, “What do you want?”

 

“Don’t play coy with me. Where’s Clark?”

 

“My, my, the jealous ex…”

 

“Stop it Bruce, I know you’re going out with him.” Bruce visibly flinched, _of course_.

 

“Bruce, I’m worried, the last time I heard from him was two days ago. I would assume you are not as stupid as you let people believe. He’s been investigating Luthor and Batman. Gotham is your turf, if you care for him at all you have to help me.”

 

Fuck, if she knew what happened, he had no doubt this woman will go out of her way to destroy him.

 

He waved her over to the desk. Puzzled, Lois cautiously walked over and stood next to him. Bruce laid a newspaper article of the Batman in front her. “A lot of things have been said about my city, Lois—I can call you Lois, right?” He paused and placed a finger on the article. “Obviously, not all of it is true,” he looked at her significantly. Bruce could see understanding flicker in Lois eyes. “I’m sure your Mr. Kent is fine, probably following some insane lead about our own bat vigilante. If you’re patient Lois, I’m sure he’ll get to you as _super-fast_ as he can.”

 

Lois blinked, all of this was too much to take all at once. Bruce Wayne was in effect telling her he was Batman and he knew Clark was Superman.  She was about to open her mouth and tell him she has no time for his bullshit, when Bruce laid a hand gently on her arm and very softly said, “Please, Lois. Trust me.”

 

She felt his earnestness. She wasn’t talking to Bruce Wayne anymore, something in his eyes begged for understanding,"Trust you?" Lois let out a forced exhale,"If something happens to Clark, I will rededicate my life to ruining yours."

 

Bruce smiled a tight smile. He had no doubt she was perfectly capable of doing that.” Deal.”

 

“I’ll let myself, out.”

 

“Bye, Miss Lane.”

 

The day dragged on as he did his Bruce Wayne things. Finally, he was done, he made his way to the labs and poked around the sections assigned to Kryptonian tech under the guise of a tour, he wanted to get a feel of the place just to make sure he didn't miss anything.

 

Bruce came home and once again stood almost motionless in front of Clark, watching him. He knew already that nothing much has changed from the time that he left. The fact that things had been quiet for him was the only consolation he had.

 

That night he studied the data he stole from Luthor, once again. How had he known about the Kryptonite? And how effective it would be? He sat in front of the computer studying various screens. This was more than just finding a deterrent against Superman. Luthor had even actively planned to kill Batman. He had hired the mercenary Lawton – known as Dead Shot, to kill whoever was left standing after that fight. Bruce was willing to bet he had a Kryptonite bullet too for Clark. Beneath all this there was something else driving Luthor’s efforts, he could feel it. He needs to find it before it was too late.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bruce came home as the early morning light bit the sky. Still wearing his Bat suit, he came up to Clark’s room. He nodded at Alfred who was keeping vigil in one corner of the room.

 

“I’ll get breakfast ready, Sir,” he said as he walked out.

 

Bruce turned his attention towards the bedside monitors flipping through different screens. And once again he stood next to Clark’s bed a silent sentry. He missed him, he realized how Clark has been a part of his life for the last few months. The desire to touch him and hold him clawed painfully in his chest, so much so he had to clutch the mattress of the bed tightly to stop himself. With a sigh he gave in and let his hand wander over Clark’s face, where he had pierced his skin and bled him with the spear. The path he made was branded into his brain as he traced Clark’s skin, grateful that the deep cut had finally healed.

 

From under the sheets-- a slight movement, a hand caught Bruce’s wrist. He winced at the bone crushing force, instinctively he twisted his arm—but he was unable to free himself from the iron grip as it pulled him in closer. Murky blue eyes looked at him in alarm.  He was let go and pushed, unprepared from the sudden release Bruce fell backward crashing against the solar lamps onto the floor. With practiced quickness he attempted to get up, but Clark was faster. Before his brain could process what happened, Clark was on top of him straddling his hips and pinning his arms against the floor. Blue eyes ringed with fiery red irises, stared down at him.

 “Clark, “he breathed. As his heart thumped wildly, relieved to see Clark, _alive_ at the same time he became hyper aware of Clark’s bare skin against his hip. Seconds seem to stretch forever, his eyes were entirely fire red now. 

 “Clark,” he called out louder this time. He wasn't sure what he wanted to happen did he want him to just end him? Ask him to let him live?

 Clark’s gaze changed as if he were seeing him for the first time, he saw his head tilt focusing on him. Aside from the skin contact, Bruce felt Clark’s panting breaths fan against his face. He could feel his grip slightly weaken Bruce knew he wasn’t a hundred percent yet, there was still a chance he could overpower him.

 “What are you waiting for?” He challenged instead. Perhaps a part of him was resigned to the idea of Clark ending him this way. He could feel the heat coming off from Clark’s body. God! It was like being inside a furnace. The fire in his eyes not confined to his eyes anymore, the red glow extended to the skin around his eyes, the veins black against his hot, red transparent skin.

 “Do it!” Bruce yelled. He could feel Clark tremble on top of him. Anytime now theheat in his eyes would erupt, Bruce thought– anytime now his end would come.

“Ngahhhh..” Clark screamed.

  He slammed Bruce against the floor. Bruce swore violently at the pain of the impact. The air around him displaced. He heard Clark crash through the glass doors. Despite the pain Bruce pushed himself to stand and run outside. He watched Clark shoot up to the air then unleash twin blazing red beams. Clark disappeared from his line of sight. Bruce grabbed the high powered compact, binoculars from his utility belt, he could see Clark hover above the clouds, arms outstretched, soaking in the sun. Even with the circumstances, Bruce couldn’t help but be awed by the sight. Clark naked and radiant -- the sun bathed his body in golden glow outlining each defined muscle. The image in his binoculars was becoming larger, he was coming back. He landed across where Bruce stood with less grace than he usually did, before he could get his bearings he lurched forward. Bruce caught him on his chest before he fell.

 “C’mon let’s get inside,” he urged gently.  Clark took a deep shuddering breath. Bruce felt he was adapting, adjusting to a full charge. _His cells are like solar batteries._ Clark seem to realize Bruce was close, he placed a hand against Bruce’s chest. 

 

“Let me go,” he croaked.

 

Bruce released him and watched him carefully as he slowly made his way to the table where his uniform lay. The suit was gray, devoid of its usual color. Bruce watched as he placed a hand over the shield, the gray material dissipated into the shield, the shield promptly returned to its usual red and gold color. Clark handled it carefully in his hand, he stared at the shield before placing it on his chest. To Bruce’s surprise the shield clung to his chest then the whole suit materialized over his body in sections complete with the cape.

 

“How long was I out?” his voice low and raspy. He took a slow drink from one of the bottled water that Alfred left for Bruce.

 

“Three days.”

 

“So I guess you didn’t kill me, or brand me.” His gaze on him became sharper. The murky blue of his eyes had cleared into his usual crystal blue.

 

Every molecule in his body was buzzing, he felt an intense desire to circle the earth a hundred times over maybe more right now just to take the edge off. He placed the bottle carefully on top of the table, making a conscious effort to control his movements, he knew he could either burn or break everything easily around him. “Where’s the Kryptonite?” He asked quietly.

 

“It’s somewhere safe. The one thing that can stop you. Remember what I said Clark, Luthor has it and knows what it can do to you.”

 

“And you have it too! Is this some sort of sick billionaire game between the two of you? Who can have the most weapons against the _alien?_   Was that your plan Bruce? After you raped me, bring me to Luthor – so he can cut me up into little pieces?”

 

He stalked at Bruce, anger bristling off him.

 

 _I’m sorry Clark, I know you hate me already. You need to learn_. Bruce calmly reached into one of the compartments in his utility belt and held out a green rock.

.

Clark stopped, his eyes widened slightly yet he didn’t move away as he eyed Bruce.  Bruce stood about 2 meters away from him. He knew Clark felt something. He could see his body tense, a slight grimace on his face.

 

“You carry a piece of it with you,” he spat the words at him.

_Alright then, let’s play chicken_. “This container is made of lead. It’s the only element that can block its radiation. This piece weighs 60 grams, its dimensions are slightly larger than .45 caliber bullet.” Bruce walked towards him slowly as he spoke, closer and closer he came.

 

He stopped a meter away from him.  Clark’s breathing became noticeably shallow and rapid, Bruce could see tiny beads of sweat collect on his forehead yet he still didn’t move away.  “Now you know what it does to you. Your priority of course is to neutralize the threat or retreat. If you can’t retreat either by choice or circumstance, you fight smart.” He continued calmly during his entire explanation, despite Clark's symptoms. 

 

“Retreat, Clark, or neutralize the threat. Do something.” He emphasized once again, he knew Clark perfectly understood this, but was being pigheaded about it. Bruce realized this was why Clark won the fight with Zod, it wasn’t because of tactical superiority, or strength. Clark drew on a very strong will. The will to just push himself no matter the odds.

 

Clark stood his ground. Bruce knew he couldn’t drag this out with its effect on Clark. He sighed internally, the kid was stubborn. He started to put back the Kryptonite into the compartment. Before he could drop it in, Clark swiped the rock from his hand in super speed. Bruce could see something intense, determined in his eyes.

 

“Shit! Kid!  Stop it!  You have nothing to prove. Give it back!” _Great, now I’m arguing with a five-year-old._

 

Clark’s eyes flicked at him briefly, daring him to stop him. He studied the green rock gravely for a minute, then he closed his fist around the Kryptonite. He grunted and glared at Bruce his face becoming strangely feral as he held the Kryptonite tighter in his fist, waging a war within himself.

 

“That’s enough!” Bruce rushed at him fully intending to subdue him so he’ll let go of the Kryptonite. Clark must have anticipated his move he stuck out his hand and with barely any effort pushed Bruce clear across the room. Even with the Kryptonite, he was still strong. “You’re going to kill yourself!”

 

Bruce pushed himself upright. He saw Clark’s hand turn that sick green pallor once again, this time he could see the veins in Clark’s hand become engorged and turn into an ugly black; he swayed, lost his balance and collapsed onto his knees. Head bent over he started to retch violently, supporting himself with one hand on the floor. Bruce saw blood trickle from his nose down to the floor. When he stopped retching, his hand shook releasing his hold on the rock; the kryptonite fell out of his palm broken in two pieces. Bruce’s chest chilled when he saw a sliver embedded within his skin. Clark saw it too.

 

“Shit! It hurts…hurts” He gasped out.

 

Tremors shook his body.  Bruce knelt next to him and leaned him against the wall. With quick efficient movements he removed a tweezer from his belt. Bracing Clark’s arm against his body, he held his hand open with one hand as he held the tweezer with the other. He grasped the sliver of Kryptonite tightly within the tweezers and in one fluid movement pulled it out of Clark’s hand, he secured it with the rest of the pieces inside the lead compartment. Bruce put back his cowl, in a different pocket he took out an optic device. He attached it to his cowl.

 

“Jesus, Bruce what else do you have there?” The sarcasm didn’t quite work out; his voice was still thin.

 

“The thermal imaging on this would tell me if there’s any Kryptonite, your body has a very specific heat signature. Any Kryptonite left would light up like a beacon.” He scanned Clark’s hand for a couple more minutes, once again he was aware of how tense Clark was as held his arm against him for support.

 

“It’s clear. You’re lucky it was all superficial, nothing splintered into your bloodstream, possibly your recent exposure to pure solar radiation gave you added protection.” He put away his equipment.

 

Clark sighed deeply while he leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes, tight. His breaths still shallow and rapid as he waited for the effects to ebb away. Bruce took a towel and ran the tap on the sink, he pressed the cool cloth on Clark’s forehead. The tremors had stopped; his breathing had evened out. He opened his eyes yet squeezed it shut again. Bruce noticed it, his analytical mind cataloguing it—light sensitivity? A reaction to pain perhaps.

 

“Drink this.” Bruce commanded, he offered a bottle to Clark, who took it and emptied it quickly. Clark's breath hitched once again in pain.

 

“It doesn’t take much,” He spoke slowly realizing the gravity of his words. “This could happen again. A piece of my home. The last time I was exposed I was eight years old, I was terrified about how upset I made Ma and Pa.” While he talked he studied his hand, staring at it as if it held the answers to all the questions he was afraid to ask. The black veins had disappeared, yet Bruce’s mind lingered on Clark’s words, he knew what Clark meant by _this_. He met Bruce’s eyes once again and Bruce saw what was there, because Bruce knew it and he had a feeling that probably Clark did not realize it what it was. Clark was scared.  After all that happened – Bruce understood that he wanted to confront the one thing that made him weak.

 

Bruce couldn’t speak out of guilt, regret. Then he had to watch Clark do this unspeakable thing to himself, well aware of what it could do to him. It left him with one thing– anger.

 

 He glared down at Clark. “So that was the point of all that! To prove something to yourself! To make it all go away. It doesn’t go away just like that Clark. There will always be _Kryptonite_! “Bruce knew he was poking the bear. He didn’t care anymore, he will deal with this and yes cruel as it may be he will make Clark deal with it too—

 

“You need to learn how to use each advantage you have! Earlier you had the chance to end me. It would’ve been one least person to know your secret, your weakness." He pushed on, shouting at him now "After what I did to you! “What is it? Is it your moral code? You were right there ready to burn me with those eyes. Why didn’t you do it?”

 

Clark raised himself slowly off the floor holding onto the wall. He looked at Bruce steadily, a stoic mask set on his face. “Even with what you did! I don’t have that fucking luxury, _Batman_.” He raised his voice too, even if Bruce’s yelling and his yelling was making his throbbing headache worse. “You rape, kill. That’s you.  Everyone sees me as this vicious unchecked force. I can level out entire cities faster than the President can press the nuclear button. So how about that, as much as you hate me we’re perfect for each other.”

 

 Clark’s words stabbed him. He felt his insides shake with some fierce emotion. For some reason he moved closer to Clark. Clark stepped back.

 

“You can’t stand being near me,” He growled under his breath

 

“After what you did. I don’t even want to look at you. You hurt me Bruce. Hurt me in a way only you could. I know you hated—Superman but I thought because of what we had somehow you could see who I truly am. But you let your hate and something else blind you— “

 

“Its more than that Clark.  I couldn’t give a flying fuck about Superman. But I—cared for you. Then you turned out to be him. What was I supposed to do? I will not apologize for what I did.” _What am I doing? You’re ending it with him, Bruce. That’s what you’re doing. It’s the best thing for you, for him._

 

“I cannot believe you! That is truly rich coming from you, Batman!” This time Clark’s mask fell away, his vivid blue eyes reflected all the pain and the hurt.

 

“Just fucking hate me Clark. Just fucking hate, me.”

 

Clark raised a hand in a gesture of futility, “I don’t hate you, I can’t hate you,” the timber of his voice pitched low. “I’m angry but I pity you. Somewhere in that sick head of yours, you thought that this was justice. That killing me … doing what you did—” he squeezed his eyes closed once again and shook his head willing the brutal memory away, “You thought that _what you did_ … would bring an end to whatever wrongs I have done, to whatever wrongs happened to you. I’m sorry, it won’t.”

 

“Ending you would’ve been my legacy. The only thing that would matter. After all these years everything had become futile,” Bruce said bitterly.

 

“Do you even hear yourself?” he sighed in exasperation. “You say I can’t feel your pain. But what about you Bruce? Pain has made you the man you’ve become. Tell me how’s that working out for you.”

 

It was hard to look at Clark. Even though he said he refused to apologize, all he wanted to do was hold him in his arms and just ask for forgiveness, now that he was awake, healthy. _Here. Alive_. But then forgiveness never did not come easily or often to Bruce. It was better this way.

 

“You need help, Bruce.”

 

He turned his head slightly towards the door.” Thank you Mr. Pennyworth for all your help, you can put away that Kryptonite spear, now.”

 

The door opened and Alfred walked in carrying the spear. He looked around the room calmly and gave a brief nod to Clark.

 

“You are welcome, Sir.”

 

Clark super sped out of the Lake House. The wind he created flapped Bruce’s cape around him.

 

“Goodbye, Clark.” Bruce muttered under his breath.

 

 “Damn it!” Bruce realized he also took something from him. On his way out he had removed the compartment that contained the Kryptonite from Bruce’s belt. _Fighting smart_ , he almost smiled.

 

Bruce looked at Alfred and the spear, "I'm touched. You were actually worried for me,"he said wryly.

    

Alfred leaned the spear against a wall. “I should’ve known your idea about making things right, and making things worse is about the same.” He smiled with a trace of a smirk,” And Sir, just to let you know Dr. Veritas is on her way here.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clark came back to his apartment. He braced himself because he was expecting all the damage plus probably the possibility that he was going to get kicked out. Using his vision, he scanned inside his apartment. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He sped inside. It was as if nothing happened no broken and burnt furniture, no broken windows. It was even clean. He knew who did it of course. Bruce. He can’t think of Bruce right now.

 

He checked his email—there was a receipt from his landlord, for that month’s rent. Bruce paid that too. His phone had numerous text messages and voice mails. Clark called Lois first. He assured her that he was fine, giving the excuse that he went off pursuing some stupid lead. Clark knew she wasn’t convinced. Lois was about to come to his apartment, the only thing that stopped her was the absolute promise he would meet up with her as soon as he can.

 Clark removed his suit and stepped into the shower. Briefly he examined himself in the mirror. He remembered the spear cutting his face. The Kryptonite gas. Bruce hitting him; Bruce pinning him down. The fear. The helplessness. Everything had healed yet everything still hurts. The hurt that's deep inside caused by the one person that you think...cared. Yet he knew he can't just stand here under the soothing water. He knew he needed to stay strong, not just with the strength that made him Superman, but with the strength of Clark Kent. The strength that kept him from hurting those who bullied him as a child and even as a grown man. The strength that kept him from flying to rescue his Father from that tornado, because that was what his Father wanted.

 After he finished dressing he opened his Dropbox– it held two articles he needed to fill. He decided he’ll do the story on one of the survivors of the Heroes’ Park attacks. There was an email that carried another warning from Perry about pursuing the Batman story. Clark knew that was done now. But there was still Luthor. Luthor knew things about him. How?

 He knew he had to turn in an article or else he would lose his job. It was strange to act normal, to be Clark Kent once again after everything that happened. He showed up in Metropolis General Hospital to interview Jeff Alejandro, one of the victims of the explosion. He was standing close to the memorial when the bomb went off. He lost a leg during the bombing. Clark knocked on his hospital door, he had called earlier and Jeff had agreed to the interview.

 “Come in.”

 Clark cautiously opened the door and walked in. He purposely avoided using his enhanced vision to give the man privacy. Jeff Alejandro was sitting up on his bed. His right leg was covered in a cast, suspended in a traction system over the bed a row of rods, pins and screws were embedded along the length of his leg. The sheet was flat where the left leg was supposed to be. The right side of his face was covered with a thick gauze. The uncovered side showed a young, dark haired man with an easy smile.

 

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet.”

 

“Jeff, hey there!” He extended his hand at him. “Sorry, my vision is still a little iffy, so I’m just sticking out my hand, I’m not really sure where you are.” His said warmly almost joking.

 

Clark moved within what he thought was his field of vision. “No problem. So, hey ummm… thanks for letting me come talk to you.”

 

“Well, I actually asked for you. I read your stories on the survivors of the Metropolis attacks. I mean other people have been calling but I said, ‘Hey I want to talk to Clark Kent.’ Everyone was too busy writing about the aliens but man, you wrote about the real people.”

 

He felt worse than guilty. In Clark’s experience most of the people who actually liked his human interest stories, hated Superman. But he is a journalist and he had a job to do. “Thank's Jeff, so tell me what happened that day.” He settled himself on one of the chairs.

 

So Jeff talked about what he saw. For the most part Clark asked only a few questions here and there. Jeff was a good interview, enthusiastic and gave a lot of details. But he could feel underneath all that he was very scared kid putting up a good front. Eventually he had to ask the question.

 

“Do you blame Superman for what happened to you?” Clark gestured towards his legs.

 

“Well he didn't put those bombs there, right?” His unbandaged eye wavered uncertainly.” Serves me right for being nosy. I didn't really plan to go there, I work in accounting two buildings down the street, I finished early and it kinda looked exciting….I dunno, the poor shmuck tried to help us and now there's all this mess…. God what am I gonna do … they say I probably need 2 more surgeries and after that at least three months of therapy.” Tears started falling down his cheeks, he blew his nose with tissues before continuing. “Mom can't stop crying and Dad just kinda stares into space a lot, can’t even look at me—” he was sobbing now. He took a deep shaky breath. Clark gave him a glass of water from the bedside pitcher. He took a long sip before he continued.

 

“Thanks... so my fiancée, Sarah she's been great—but do you think she'll want to stay with a cripple like me? What do you think Mr. Kent?”

 

What could he say? Tough luck kid, shit happens or something like, if you and Sarah are meant to be together, she’ll stay with you, but eventually it’s her choice if she stays or leaves because it’s her life too or; I’m really, really sorry I never meant for any of this to happen, I wish I could just make it all go away.

 

Clark looked at his once smiling face and thought of everything that was coming for him; the pain both emotional and physical; the everyday challenges in his young life now made worse because of what happened.

 

“I’m really sorry Jeff. I’m not really the best person to ask about this— “he started to say then his eyes fell on the leg up on the traction, broken bones held together by pins, screws and rods, the flat part of the sheet where the other leg should be now a stump; the too young face covered by thick bandages. He spoke slowly, ”Your parents and Sarah are going to be there for you; you have to be strong for yourself, and also for them and ask help when the world will get to be a little too much, because it will.”

 

He sat with him for an hour longer, the interview was long done. They talked about baseball teams, video games, food, the place they grew up in. Clark had ordered pizza and soda for them since Jeff was allowed to eat soft food, he also gave a box to the floor staff. Jeff beamed, happy that he’ll have bonus points with them. Before he left, Clark gave him his card.

 

“Call or text me anytime.”

 

He looked at the card briefly and smiled, “Thanks, Clark.”

 

“Your welcome. Take care.”

 

His mind went back to his conversation with Lois. _The hiker that caused the fire in California lived in Luthor’s half way house before._ Bruce telling him about what Luthor found out about the Kryptonite. The files about Batman on the “mysterious” flash drive he received in his office. The bullet that almost killed Bruce. Luthor.

* * *

 

 

Clark filed his story via the Daily Planet’s server. The apartment wasn’t a place he wanted to be right now, especially when all he could see there was Bruce, that night, right before everything he did.  He keyed in a number on his cell phone, although he knew there was really no need.

 

“Mom, I’m coming home.”

 

In a couple of minutes, he was sitting in his Mother’s kitchen.  His Mom fussed over him cooking enough food to feed an army and refusing his help.

 

“You finally came to see your old mother.”

 

“You’re not old... I’m sorry Mom, it's been kinda crazy...” At that moment he worried how he sounded and bit the inside of his cheek.

 

His Mom was standing in front of the open fridge with her back to him, rummaging around till she handed him the butter and juice,“Well.. tell me how’s work? Lois?”

 

“Lois is good." He said as he carried the stuff to the table, then poured the juice into the glasses,  "Still her usual amazing, obstinate self.” 

 

She looked at him, eyes full of affection and worry, “Ever since you and Lois broke up I worry about you more."

 

“Mom, please. I’m fine.” _Not like Jeff and those who died ––_ he almost said but instead he took a slow drink from his glass.

 

Martha watched him for a moment then kissed him on the forehead and patted his back before turning her attention back to her cooking, “I know. But sometimes I’m just fed up with how the world treats you, Clark.”

 

He smiled at her, he didn't want her to see the pain he hid. But of course, he knew his Mom knew. It was only a matter of time till she'll ask him about it. 

 

Later on he walked towards that barren patch of land, where a long time ago he had fallen into a hole and had his first encounter with Kryptonite. The hole was gone now, his father had persuaded the other farms to help him fill it. But the Kryptonite was still there, under all that earth.  As he stood there, he could feel some of its effects. A slight tingling on his skin, the beginnings of nausea stirring in his gut. Did it come with him when Krypton exploded? Or perhaps from a long time ago back when Krypton sent its scout ships to Earth?

 

It was nighttime, the stars were brilliant in a way that was only possible in the wide open spaces of Kansas. After leaving a note for his Mom in the kitchen, he hovered above the farm listening to her quiet breathing, He flew lazily for a while circling the earth until he found himself in the middle of the Indian Ocean. There was a boatload of pirates who boarded a fishing boat that veered off course, he stopped them right before the pirates were about to execute the fishermen.  After making sure the international coast guard had secured them, he wandered off to the coast of Seychelles. He loved the smell of the sea and the sun here.

 

He landed on a secluded beach in one of the most remote atolls—The Aldabra. The turquoise waters were dotted with champignon islands. Almost immediately he lost himself in the pristine beauty of his surroundings. It was one of the few places on Earth mostly untouched by human hands. Clark sat on a rock as he watched the various seabirds dive into the sea and catch prey. Watched the tortoises amble up the beach ever so slowly then dig holes to lay their eggs and wondered about the simplicity of life here.

 

After a couple of minutes, he inhaled softly and looked out at the ocean, “Thank you for your help in Metropolis.”

 

The biggest whale shark surfaced about ten meters out to sea, on top stood a man. A man carrying a trident. The whale shark got closer to the beach. The man somersaulted gracefully and landed on the sand in front of Clark.

 

“You knew of my presence?”

 

“Yes. You do a pretty good job hiding yourself. If I didn't know you existed, I wouldn't know to look for you.”

 

“Your senses are as sharp as a shark’s!”

 

“Well it has never been put that way, but I guess that’s a good comparison.”

 

Clark stood up slowly. There was no mistake about it, the man before him was a warrior. Taller than him, as tall as Bruce. Broad shouldered, lean muscled, built for strength and speed. Long dark brown hair framed a bearded strong jawed face. His demeanor and posture reminded him of the generals he had met. Then there was the armor. He had on an intricately crafted arm guard with overlapping plates held in place by a belt across his immense chest. The belt continued around his waist the center of which resembled an “A”. His bare chest was covered with spear head tattoos. His muscular forearms were covered with thick arm braces designed with shark teeth in gold and black metal. The design continued to his dark leggings. His armor and leggings were made of material that Clark had not seen before, flexible and lightweight yet clearly protective. The structure was similar to the dense polymers for bulletproof vests, yet definitely more advanced. He held a trident taller than him, relaxed on his one hand. The trident radiated an energy, invisible to human eyes, Clark could see its "aura" as it displaced the surrounding air around it. 

 

Clark felt  the expressionless yet guarded look of his eyes as greenish blue as the ocean around him. Assessing him.  A look almost like Br-- he mentally shook the image out of his head

 

He extended his hand, “Hi, my name is Cl—Kal- El.” A strange shiver went up his spine as he said his Kryptonian name. Yet somehow it felt right.

 

The taller man shifted his trident to his left hand, “Kal-El, I am Arthur Curry, Crown Prince of Atlantis. The assistance I gave you was nothing compared to what you have done to protect the sea and its inhabitants and for that we are grateful.”

 

“Your Highness,” Clark bowed slightly.

 

“Arthur is sufficient. I spent most of my years here on land among humans.”

 

“Arthur, that’s …interesting.” he acknowledged. “So, Atlantis? Like in the books? A whole kingdom of sea …people?”  He said openly curious and hoping he wasn’t being offensive.

 

“Almost but not exactly.” A guarded smile, his voice deep yet playful.

 

“I never thought that it could be real.”

 

Arthur’s lips quirked at his surprise. “I never thought flying men could be real, either.”

 

“Atlantis, huh?”

 

“If you want I can show you. You'll be an honored guest,” he gave a slight nod.

 

 By the time he reached Smallville it was dusk once again. He greeted the worried face of his Mother. “You’ll never guess where I came from."

 

His Mother laughed at the statement. Clark proceeded to tell her about his short visit to Atlantis. An entire city underneath the ocean hidden from the rest of the world. The visit made him feel really small once again. The planet was more than just things that even he could see. That although there were Arthurs in this planet there were also Jeffs –people who paid the price because Luthor hated him.

 

“Mom, I have to leave for space. Remember that ship I told you about. I need to get back there. Find out what I could about Krypton.” _The Kryptonite._

 

Martha calmly considered what he said, like this sort of thing happened at least once each week, her child telling her that he was going to space, like he was going next door to the Langs, "Why now? What are you not telling me, honey." She placed her arms around him like she usually did. He rested his head on her shoulders while he hugged her. He lifted his head quickly, afraid that if he held her any longer, everything will just come out. He couldn't do that to her. It will kill him. 

 

He gave her a smile hoping it would stop he from worrying at least for a while. "It's just that...with everything that's happening I think it's time I learned more about where I came from." He hated lying to her, but right now it was better than the truth. 

 

“Well, then before you go running around again. You need to eat," she said to him for she wasn't really sure what else she could say. 

 

Later he activated his suit, once again he broke the sound barrier. Breaking away from Earth’s gravity he headed towards the scout ship.

 

* * *

 

 

**THEN**

 

Zod was dead. In a desperate effort to stop him from incinerating a whole family with his heat vision Clark snapped Zod’s neck. A grim thought occurred to him at that moment perhaps  Kryptonians weren't so different from humans after all.  Zod’s body slipped from his hands to the floor. In a little over 24 hours he had not only met the last of his people but also waged war on them and now he has killed the only other surviving member of his race. Physically and emotionally he was drained, he slumped to the floor on his knees. For a precious few moments everything went still as the world took a breath. There was a stillness inside the terminal that belied the chaos outside. The people around had scampered away when the two titans faced each other. All that was left now was Clark. Clark knelt on the terminal’s floor, numb. The numbness was followed by a sudden flood of frustration and anger, it tore at his insides until there was nowhere for it to go but out and so he cried. Cried for all the destruction, death and for what he had done. There was no one left. He was the Last Son of Krypton.

 

Lois arrived and stood next to him, no words were spoken but Clark saw that somehow she understood what he felt. She took him in her arms and held him tight, he clung to her too—her presence anchored him to the here and now. Time started once again. Clark could hear sirens approaching the terminal. There was an immense amount of chatter going on in different frequencies both military and civilian …. _.We have reports that Superman has killed the other Kryptonian…. We are heading to that location…. Secure the body …._

He released Lois, “I have to go and take care of things. Thank You.” He stood up and planted a brief kiss on her lips.

 

“Will I see you again?"

 

He nodded at her then detached his cape and covered Zod’s body. He looked at him before covering his face. There was a peace to the warrior’s face. Zod’s words echoed in his head. _I did this all for the greater good of my people. And now, I have no people._ Clark thought, perhaps he truly thought this was honor in itself – a warrior’s death. He gave Lois another lingering look before he shot through the roof that he crashed through earlier and up to the sky leaving the devastated city behind.

 

Clark decided to bring Zod to the Arctic, perhaps he could find a place to bury his body in the remote, inhospitable environment. The mountainside that once anchored the scout ship was now covered with tons of snow from an avalanche. The entire cliff collapsed when Zod wrested the scout ship out of its moorings.

 

He scanned the ice cliffs, his vision picked up the outlines of a Kryptonian drop ship, buried in tons of snow. He concluded that this was the ship Zod had used to reach the Arctic, so he could acquire the scout ship for himself.

 

Clark landed next to the ship and cleared the snow to what he remembered would be the doorway. The vehicle recognized his Kryptonian DNA as belonging to the House of El and responded to his touch. He placed Zod’s body on another seat, securing it carefully. After several queries to the onboard computer, he was able to pilot the drop ship back to Metropolis. The vehicle hovered over the broken scout ship and sent several pulsating signals. The ship’s computer had confirmed it had the solution, it would use something called “liquid geomatrix.” Clark wasn’t surprised when long smooth, silver tentacle structures came out beneath the drop ship. It seems fitting since most of the Kryptonian ships almost had an anthropoid or insect like look to them. The tentacles melded with the scout ship’s hull and formed a protective cocoon around the ship. Slowly it began to ascend pulled up by the tentacles before attaching itself securely to the belly of the smaller drop ship. With a simple command, it flew carrying the scout ship with it.

 

Using stealth tech, it set a course for space as Clark asked it to. There was no place in Earth he reasoned he could hide it. Space seem to offer the most safety. He knew the military and whoever else will be hunting him and anything related to the aliens that attacked Earth. The drop ship’s data bank was of course filled with information about Earth and the different satellites that go in orbit around it.

 

The ship’s AI had stated in needed to stay in stationary orbit whilst it repaired itself. _Wonderful, I don’t even drive a car. Now I have to tell this thing where to go_. Well the general idea to hide, right? He reasoned to himself.

 

He spoke to the AI,” Stay hidden. I will be leaving soon. But I need to be able to find you when I come back.” _How the hell am I supposed to talk to this thing?_

 

“Kal- El, the drive system is equipped with cloaking aside from stealth. The Kryptonian armor is keyed in to the ship’s systems. It will assist you in locating this transport."

 

 “Alright, continue cloaking and stealth systems.”

 

“Kal-El, Cloaking and stealth on line. Solar panel array activated. Sixty percent of power diverted to liquid geomatrix systems.”

 

There was a loud electronic hum then it sounded like things were shutting down. All was left was the silence of space.

 

After a crash course in astronomy and Kryptonian engineering. Clark had figured out that they were “parked” close to the the “graveyard belt” approximately 240,000 miles away from Earth—where dead satellites slept -- out of reach from human spacecraft and long range sensors. He watched the progress of the scout ship repair. It filled Clark with awe that he came from a people that developed his kind of versatile technology. _I have a lot to learn_. Micro technology—minute machines that obeyed a hive mind. What could have taken him several trips only took one. He was relieved that he was able to expedite this.  Earth was already unprepared for the advent of Kryptonians, exposing humans to this tech will just open a whole new can of worms. He knew as he worked to conceal this craft, at that very moment the World Engine in the Indian Ocean was being investigated by several military and government agencies. Clark glanced at the wrapped body of General Zod; despite what he wanted to do to the human race Clark believed  he should be allowed to rest in peace.

 

 

 

TBC

 

We'll catch up with Luthor next update.

 

Hey guys, sorry for the delay RL was extra challenging ( once again) this time I had a freakin’ health scare to boot. Thank you so much for your patience.

 

I loved all your kudos and comments, it really helped me get  through a bunch of crap, THANK YOU ALL for being awesome.

 

P.S How excited are you guys for the BvS Ultimate Edition!! Tbh I wish it was today already !!! 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this and the next chapter maybe a little bit self indulgent. I'm sorry.
> 
> This chapter contains Non-con sex and sexual violence.

 

 

>  

SOMEWHERE IN one of Lex Luthor’s Labs.

 

Lex laughed, that jittery laugh, more like a series of snorts than an actual laugh. It was the only way that Lex ever laughed, Mercy observed. A laugh that made people underestimate him, since it as usually accompanied by a series of wild gesticulations and undignified sounds. In reality it was a laugh that mocked the small minds around him, edged with the self-loathing that somehow drove him to become not only of the richest men in the world but also the most dangerous.

 

“Somehow the god that abandoned me to a cruel Father saw it fit to send me an angel from the stars. A fallen angel abandoned by the gods that made it. I only wanted to shatter what others perceived as mythic, let the pieces fall where it may. A god vs a dark knight.” He paced around the room as spoke.

 

Lex stopped and stood in the middle of the room the lights of the computer servers around him casting an almost iridescent glow on his pale skin. He wore a black helmet with a dark, opaque visor. Three, blue green circles arranged in a triangle glowed on top of his forehead. The helmet was wireless and utilized Kryptonite as a powerful neurotransmitter and receiver. The specifications for the helmet were given to him by the entity. It had asked if he wished for a faster way to communicate, and Lex very much wanted to communicate faster. 

 

\--Lex, angels were the instruments of punishment in your recorded history.

 

“Of course, you are talking about the bible, mythologies. These are not our history. Men wrote them to explain things they cannot understand.”

 

\---Yet, your world has an affinity for gods and deities, throughout time your kind have always longed for superior beings to guide you, care for you, protect you. This Superman fulfills that role does he not?”

 

“True, but he has blinded them and deceived them. He only wants us to need him, so we will know nothing anymore and strive for less. I will be Prometheus. I will bring light. They will see him for what he truly is. He thinks he is superior. They think he is all good. Nothing is all good.”

 

\---You had said you wanted the Batman to end him for you but he still lives.

 

“He lives but before that he disappeared for three days. From the satellite images we have from the drone and the fight, we hurt him.”

 

\--I am superior too. Will you try to end me too?”

 

Once again it amazed him how it was almost like a child. “Yes you are but I will never do that. We are alike you and I, victims of powerful things.”

  

\--It is up to you Lex Luthor, finish what the Batman could not do. You will shatter his myth. You will save them from him, you will save them from their simple selves. You will do what I could not do for my planet.

 

The Brain Interactive Consult listened and processed all of his responses.  Unbeknownst to Lex it has gathered strength while it hid in his satellite. The Kryptonian liquid geomatrix that protected it had spawned, yet it wasn’t enough. It needed a stronger host. It deemed that nothing on Earth could hold its true form, not even what Lex Luthor considered its most advanced computers. He found it curious that the Kryptonian’s cells have been enhanced because of the yellow sun. It was all theoretical before – but Jor-El the one who sought to destroy him gambled on this unproven science and now Kal-El has become a superior being. The Construct found it illogical that as Kal-El choose to live his life as one of them and serve them.

  

-Lex Luthor you have been true to your word. Be ready, I will come to Earth. Soon all will see as you see. 

 

 

                                               ------------------------------

 During the eighteen months that had passed since Clark left the Kryptonian ship in space, he had only visited it twice. He got caught up in a different momentum of life. It wasn’t about living as a shadow anymore, staying in remote places, taking on difficult and dangerous jobs. It was about being Clark Kent and actually working a job that suited his passion. Going to an office every day. Falling in love and having a life with a beautiful and brilliant woman. Falling out of love and falling in love once again with the intensity similar to g-forces when you’re falling into the atmosphere.  Being like everyone else. Being Superman, to be able to do what he could do out in the open. All of it felt good and right. Clark will not deny that being inside the ship at first filled him with awe and wonder later made him feel lonely. He was an alien that felt everything around him was too alien. Now it seems the universe was determined to turn things downside, up and sideways once again

 

The Kryptonian ship although now mostly functional was to a certain extent still rehabilitating itself—large sections of it had to re-spawn (from what Clark could understand about this almost organic behaving material) using the liquid geomatrix that was the main component of the ship. Even though his initial encounter with was terrifying since the World Engine’s tentacles that almost killed him were made of the same material, Clark had learned to treat it with some sort of respect. The liquid like material—was actually a collection of tetrahedron shaped metallic beads suspended in a magnetic field that could be dynamically arranged to form extremely durable three dimensional shapes.  It would probably had taken a shorter time for a Kryptonian scientist or engineer to whip everything up to shape. Those things he wasn't. Although he had a grasp of what would be considered Kryptonian engineering 101 and his mind to his surprise seem to easily absorb the concepts of Kryptonian science. Once again he asked the ship to reconstruct his Father’s AI. Kelex, the robot that functioned as the ship’s mobile servitor, hovered nearby. The robot served as a link between Clark and the ship.

 

\---General Zod terminated all data designated Jor-El.

 

He knew this, but the loss of his Father’s “data” frustrated him. He was hoping given time the ship was able to retrieve some part of it.

 

“Were you able to salvage anything at all?”

 

\----Standby. Retrieving.

 

He was standing at the ship's main bridge. To Clark's surprise one of the nearby consuls began to thrum gently. Liquid matrix crystals like the ones his Father had used to teach him about Krypton began to rise and consolidate and form a face.

 

— Reconstructing three dimensional image. 

 

Next to the consul a figure materialized in the same way his Father's did. It was that of a woman cradling a bundle in her arms appeared. Like his Father she was dressed in a long flowing robes with El shield woven into its design. She had soft curls of long black hair and kind, sky blue eyes.   Clark’s wasn’t prepared for the combination of homesickness and loneliness that welled up inside him when he saw her. There was no doubt who she was.

 

_I look like her._

—Lara Lor-Van, wife of Jor-El, your mother.

Seeing her right there standing, so lifelike, beautiful, looking down at the bundle in her arms with an expression that just took his breath away, he couldn’t help but hold out his hand to her. The image flickered reminding him it was just an image—a mere collection of pixels, no matter how sophisticated. He saw that her mouth moved, though no sound came out.

 

“Can I hear her, please?”

 

\---Complying with request.

 

The image flickered once again.

 

 _“_ Kal–“

 

_Her voice._

 

The sound cut off, although her lips still moved. She smiled and looked up, a fond gaze at someone else in the room with her.

 

Clark frowned, “Kelex, I can’t hear her anymore.”

 

\---Voice data Lara Lor-Van remains corrupted.

 

He sighed deeply, “Can you please replay.”

“Kal _–“_

 

“Mom. It’s really you.” The image seemed to be on a loop, he didn't mind; he stood in front of her  for a long time mesmerized by her soothing smile and regal presence. It amazed him that even in a more advanced planet several thousand lightyears from earth; the way mothers held their babies was no different; the way she bent her head when she looked down on him; the way her hand touched his face. How it hurt that he couldn't hear  her anymore.  He tried to imagine what she could be thinking at this time, she had just given birth to him, the first natural birth in centuries.

 

 _Then she had to let me go_. 

 

His chest clutched at was lost with Zod's megalomania, at what could've been lost if the ship wasn't saved.  

 

"Kelex, I want you to keep on trying to retrieve her voice data."

 

—Yes, Kal-El.

 

He played around with the controls, trying to find other things about his family, about Krypton. He had a lengthy discussion with Kelex as he tried to work out the Kryptonite problem. It was difficult. Once again he wished his Father’s AI was still around, but he had to figure this out by himself with the resources he had.

Clark said goodbye to his mother's hologram before he went back planet side. This time piloting the drop ship in stealth mode. The journey back gave him more time to mull over various things in his head. Maybe all this happening was all his fault, perhaps he should have tried harder to learn about his people. Maybe he let his guard down by thinking if he continued doing the best _good_ he could do it will be somehow enough. He was wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time, leaving the World Engine in the Indian Ocean was definitely a mistake, Clark thought miserably. Now he learned that the debris also carried with meteorite that could kill him. Bruce used it, Luthor probably has stockpiles of it.  

 

Clark focused as he guided the drop ship to a dive in the Mariana Trench, it wasn’t the easiest thing since he was hauling a couple of tonnage of Kryptonian metal, but luckily the thing practically drove itself and the tentacle-like arms latched onto the pieces of the World Engine securely with minimal instructions. He had scanned the location earlier on board the larger ship and found wide cliff with a large enough cave tucked halfway from the bottom of the Mariana Trench to store the wreckage. Plus, he had to do a couple of sweeps for any Kryptonite. The material he found was stored safely in the ship’s cargo compartment with sufficient lead shielding. He was hoping the ship’s stealth mode and speed would be enough to throw off the tracking satellites aimed at the site. At least the site he had chosen will not be accessible to some random kid with just a $10 snorkel.

\------------------------------

 

Seven am. Clark Kent sat on his bed for a minute and casted his senses. It ws going to be a long day. He had been practically invisible in the Daily Planet offices for several days now, filing his stories just via email and Dropbox. Still Perry wanted them to at least show up when he did his meetings.  He figured that he’ll deal with his wrath later, for now he knew his Mom was already awake. It will be six am in Kansas now. He promised today he will have breakfast with her. After a quick shower he zipped out of his apartment and headed to Kansas.

“Hey, Ma!”

“Hi, honey!”

He breezed through the kitchen, changing out of his suit to his office clothes before she finished pouring orange juice into his glass. He gave her a kiss before he sat down. On his side of the kitchen table were plates with eggs over easy, hash browns, bacon and toast. Martha smiled as she watched her son pile his food on his plate. Martha opted for a healthier oatmeal with fresh blueberries.

 

They ate in silence for a couple of minutes. “I haven't heard anything new about that Senate hearing.”

 

Clark chewed the hash browns in his mouth before answering, “I guess they're still trying decide on a couple of things. I tried to keep up with it with my Capitol sources, but at this point I have to go on with my life.”

 

Martha laid her fork on the plate, “Are you going to show up if they're going to do it?”

 

He gave a half shrug and rearranged the bacon strips on his plate, “I’m not really sure. “Should I? There are easily ten reasons why I should just as there are ten reasons I shouldn’t.”

 

“Clark, if it was up to me I'd march up to that hill and tell them to leave my son alone,” anger crept into Martha’s voice, “But whatever you decide, remember you don't owe anyone anything, you do enough.”

 

He laid a hand over hers, “Ma, don't worry I can take care of myself.”

 

Martha sighed trying to push down all the worry she felt for her son, “Well what kind of breakfast talk is this…remember a couple of weeks ago you told me you met someone. You hardly told me anything about him… I mean you know I was a little surprised after Lois…so tell me….”

 

It was the hardest thing hiding things from his Mom. Clark briefly told her how they had broken up. “It was good for a while, but in the end we weren’t really ready yet for each other in a way.”

 

Martha gave him what Clark fondly called her “Mom Xray look.” Or the “Clark, I know you’re hiding something from me—” He got it a lot around the time when as a scared kid his powers where still coming out and he’d hide things he broke or burned yet somehow his Ma always knew.

 

In an effort to distract her, he steered the topic towards the things he found on the ship. How he found a hologram of his mother. Martha got teary eyed,” I’m so happy for you honey.”

 

They talked about it for a while. Clark felt the warmth of her love wash over him. He clung to it like a child clung to a favorite blanket. For now it kept away all the bad things.

 

After breakfast he sped back to Metropolis. At the Daily Planet Lois had not yet arrived. He placed 2 carefully wrapped blueberry muffins on top of her desk, baked by Martha from scratch.  For this particular morning he decided it will be a waste to spend it inside the building. It felt like it will be one of those last beautiful fall days they will ever have, it wasn’t cold. The wind was just right. Even the few trees scattered around the office park still held their orange and red leaves. His eyes settled on the majestic span of the Metropolis - Narrows Bay Bridge and the city beyond it. Even in the morning, Gotham was determined to be shrouded in darkness. While early morning sunlight bathe Metropolis in a golden glow, a layer of dark cloud continued to brood over the most of Gotham. He knew the time even without looking at his watch. He knew what Bruce was doing right now. He had expanded his senses to hone in on his heartbeat.  It was something he swore to himself he should stop doing, he had resigned himself to the fact that wasn’t going to be today. Clark started walking normal speed at first then in a split second blurred into his costume unobserved  and took to the sky.

 

                                                 ----------------------------------

 

Fuck. He sat up on his bed. He gave it a minute, his senses still swimming from the alcohol and drugs. _Great I made it home_. It’s too fucking early. Why was he fucking awake?  His entire brain felt like egg yolks being sloshed around inside a bowl. He felt something shift next to him. That’s why. He never really could sleep when he was sharing his bed with somebody except of course when that somebody was warm and strong and held him like nobody else ever held him and soothed his nightmares better than any pill could.

 

He stole a glance at the body next to him. What was her name? Tory? Tina? Wait, was it a her? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, an effort to clear his alcohol addled brain. He looked over at his bedmate again and pulled down the sheet just to be sure. Ok, definitely a her.  Alfred will take care of her.  He stunk of some musky Dior perfume, cheap whisky, sweat and cunt. The sharp smell in his nostrils brought a vague memory not even worth remembering. Another party, another easy piece of ass. They were all easy to him. Whatever piece of ass Bruce Wayne wanted Bruce Wayne usually got. He grabbed the pill bottle on the bedside table and popped 2 maybe three Xanax it didn’t matter anyway it was all going to be chased down by gin or bourbon or whatever the hell bottle this was. _Never take with alcohol –_ it said on its yellow warning label, well what do you know, he was still alive, his body seemed to be determined with self- preservation in the midst of self-destruction.

 

He grabbed a robe. He was just going to shower downstairs he didn't want to risk her waking up and finding him here.  Then he would have to put up some semblance of civility, that he actually enjoyed whatever they did. Maybe she was a good fuck but yeah, that was done. Something slippery squelched under his bare feet when he took a step –a used condom. Too late, the hastily tied rubber had burst under his weight covering his foot and the floor with sticky combination of cum and lube.  He groaned and looked around and found his boxers at the edge of the bed. He picked up the condom then grabbed the boxers and used it to give the floor a perfunctory wipe. He ditched everything in the trash. It'll be one less lecture from Alfred.

 

Somehow he dragged himself to his study and managed to walk down the steel staircase that wound behind the hidden door behind his desk.  The cave’s shower helped, it was one of the best that money could buy with multiple powerful jets. Massaging his tired body and washing away all the stink, enough to make him pass for a human being. Whatever that meant for him nowadays. He dried himself off with a fresh towel and tied one around his waist. The quiet hum of electronics and machinery inside the cave welcomed him along with the occasional trickle of water off the bat mobile’s platform. He walked towards the main monitor waking up various systems. Alfred will be here soon--

 

The batarang he grabbed off the work table, flew out of his hand as normal as breathing. The trajectory of the weapon unerringly  found its mark. The metal made a loud clunk against something hard before it landed with a louder clunk on the cement floor.

 

“Well, I guess good morning to you too, Bruce.” Clark in full Superman regalia hovered across him twenty feet away.

 

 “What are you doing here?”

 

Clark didn’t answer, instead all he could see now was as steady red glow on his eyes.

_Shit._

 

“Corvus -- Alpha --eight-seventeen! NOW!” Bruce yelled to activate the energy field that would stop Clark. Quickly he dove  towards the weapons cache by the lockers.

 

“Bruce,” Clark’s smooth voice echoed around him. “Calm down.” A tangle of wires and equipment crashed on the floor from above. Bruce saw the destroyed instrument panel in one side of the cave.

 

“I appreciate all this prep for me I really do. All this, all for me. I’m flattered.”

 

Bruce had reached the weapons cache, he threw the Kryptonite grenade at Clark. Even as he did Bruce had the distinct impression he was already too late. Everything was too late. There was a spark and explosion midair, as Clark’s heat vision met the grenade, burning off everything. Undeterred he lobbed another grenade, before he could throw it, there was a flash of red in his knuckles even as he felt the searing heat. . The grenade remained intact and fell harmlessly on the floor. Dammit. In that single moment for that thought to occur, Clark moved. A movement too fast for him to process. Bruce Wayne found himself spun around then kneeling in the middle of the cave, naked and bound. 

_Fucking hell_.

 

All the lights and equipment blinked. Darkness and quiet filled the subterranean space Everything was powered down including the climate conditioning systems.

 

“What did you do to Alfred!” Bruce demanded at the dark around him.

 

“I am not a monster, Bruce, Mr. Pennyworth has been so kind. He’s taking a nap inside his car on a mountaintop somewhere in the Himalayas or was it the Andes? I’m sorry sometimes when I’m flying too fast mountains start to look the same, it’s confusing. All I remember was a whole lot of snow.” A mirthless laugh surrounded him. “Don’t worry I’ll get to him after our little talk. But if something were to happen to me …well it’ll be bye-bye Mr. Pennyworth. And that slut up there in your bed Bruce, I took care of her too.”

 

Bruce moved his torso. It was a mistake, because of the way he was tied pain shot up through his entire body and he fell on his side. He groaned. Bare skin against hard concrete, he might have dislocated at least two ribs. The rope was tied around his wrists and wound around his chest. His ankles were tied just as efficiently, the ends tied around his wrists, tight yet with enough length for him to kneel.

 

“Look at you trussed up for and ready for me.” His voice was closer yet he could not pinpoint where he was. He could swear he was directly in front of him yet somehow he sounded like he was around him. Maybe there was still a chance—

 

Suddenly a light came on directly above him.

 

“If I’d known you were so dramatic and kinky I would've prepared myself.” Bruce whispered roughly.

 

“It’s all about preparation with you Bruce and smooth talk.” The cool, detached voice sounded closer this time.

 

Clark glided out of the darkness. Naked. The harsh spotlight above them illuminating his perfection. His heavy erection lying in between his legs.

 

“You are going to suck my cock Bruce Wayne. I’m going to come into your mouth and you’re going to swallow all of it. And if I feel a less than stellar effort from you Bruce... I would hate to waste my time. I don’t think Mr. Pennyworth was ready for his little winter outing,” His words remained cold even as his eyes glowed hot.

 

Bruce shivered in the dark, he blamed it on the loss of the temperature controls. Clark yanked him up by the rope on his back, back to kneeling. The ropes forced him to arc his back. 

 

Bruce looked up at him. “What the hell happened to you?”

 

“I woke up. After what you did to me, everything was clearer Bruce. No matter what I do people will either hate me or fear me. Then there’s people like you, Bruce. Everything you touch becomes filthy as shit. And that bastard Luthor. He really is a bastard—Daddy hated him because Mommy cheated on Daddy. Daddy found out that Junior wasn't really his. I found that little secret digging around. He is truly fucked up. Like you Bruce you and your Daddy issues or is it Mommy --- what is it with you little rich boys and your parental hang ups.”

 

“Clark, what did you do?” his voice remained calm even as he felt a cold terror inside him. _This is what I have done to you._

 

“Followed your advice, Bruce, used my advantage. Eliminated my problem. Luthor is… _was_ a problem. Eliminate the one percent chance. You could never say I never learned anything from you.”

 

“One percent chance… No— “

 

“Don't look so shocked. _Batman_.” His voice accused him.

 

Clark knelt in front of him. The marble god, yet heat radiated off him. His hands gripped his hips as he pressed himself against body. The heat and arousal served to lessen the cold terror inside him, “Now if you're really a good boy you can make a play for his company. It could be all yours Bruce. In the same way I am yours,” he murmured, his breath hot against his ear.

 

 Clark’s mouth travelled from Bruce’s ear to neck. Sucking and biting. If it wasn’t for Clark’s firm grip on his hips he would have fallen to the floor. His mouth was on his relentless with power and possession. There was a foolish moment when Bruce thought he could actually push him off. Clark chuckled softly at his efforts, he shifted a leg and pressed his cock harder against Bruce’s erection. Without any shame Bruce fed off it, dominance and heat as he sucked and bit back Clark’s soft lips, then his tongue.  Clark grinding against him with much needed friction, rough and hard. He missed this, he missed Clark even if what was here now was this malevolent version of him. It was still Clark. This was hell. He’ll take hell.

 

“I was wrong. I’m not going to justify what I did to you.” Bruce growled at his lips. “Don’t hurt anybody else. I’ll do whatever you want— “

 

And at that moment Bruce came, even as he begged and pleaded, shamelessly he came. His cum sprayed between them and dripped between his thighs. Clark looked down and scoffed then held his jaw and studied him with icy blue eyes. Bruce could not see anything beyond the soulless stare except a reflection of the mess that was him, pupils blown, sticky with cold sweat and cum, brought to his knees by the very thing he created. Bruce shuddered. His madness had destroyed Clark. Clark who was always so gentle, now cold and spewing this vile. This was all his fault. He deserved this, him alone. Not Alfred, not even Lex.

 

Clark stood once again in front of him. His heavy cock and sac pressed against his face. Thick cum dripping off his slit. “Shut up. Open your mouth.” Even as he did, Bruce never thought to look down and submit. He tilted his head up and looked at Clark in the eyes.

 

“That’s it, Bruce. Look at me. C’mon…C’mon” Superman’s filthy snarl grated on his ears as he fed him his cock, thrusting into his mouth forcefully just at a point before he could gag. Clark gripped his head, pulled his hair and began slamming his hips into his mouth.

 

Clark fucked his mouth with a relentless pace. Bruce almost fell over several times if it weren’t for the painful grip of steel hands on his hair. And Clark came. There was so much cum, musky and hot filling his mouth burning his throat. Bruce could not help it, he coughed and gagged. Tears welled up in his eyes which he furiously blinked back, yes its part of an involuntary reaction but he doesn’t want Clark to mistake the tears for something else.

 

“Tsk, Tsk. Don’t do that.” Clark shot red heat onto his clavicle. The sudden intense burn made him double up in pain and collapse to the floor, all of it pushed him to swallow what was left in his mouth.

 

“Alright, since you like the floor so much.” Clark said imperiously.

 

Clark pushed him down then yanked the rope hard. The ropes around Bruce’s body was pulled taut tight against flesh, they were slim and very rough hewn so they didn’t just rub they  _dug_ into him, its braids abraded against his skin. Tighter and tighter, burning deeper into the deep red welts that had formed until small rivulets of blood soaked into the rope.

 

 "You're bleeding so beautifully, Bruce."

 

It went on until he felt his body about to be crushed by his bindings. Clark jerked the rope of his ankles. He untied his hands and pulled them roughly over his head before he tied them together by his wrist. Clark dragged him across the floor and tied his wrists above his head on a pole. He laid on his back, his legs were free, ordinarily he could easily kick him and run. But he knew how ineffective it would be it would only end up breaking his legs and besides there was Alfred. He needed to stay alive for Alfred.

 

Clark stood over him. Slowly he straddled Bruce’s legs. Clark’s huge cock had become rigid once again. He slid against his thighs. He smiled at him. That guileless Clark Kent smile. Bruce couldn’t believe his Clark and this monster was the same person. “No begging, Bruce? I can’t say, I’m surprised. I know you’ll never beg.”

 

Once again his eyes turned hot red. Bruce saw him looking down on his chest. There was no doubt of what he intended to do.

 

“Clark! No!”

 

“Clark! Yes!” Superman’s mockingly answered him.

 

The bad part about all of it was that he didn’t even lose consciousness. His training to tolerate pain and torture held up. The unimaginable burn on his chest seemed to go on forever. He screamed this time.

 

Finally, it was over. “You are truly mine, as I am yours Bruce.”

 

Bruce looked down at the burned and bleeding flesh on his chest, his face was wet with sweat and tears that could not be held back anymore. The acrid odor of his own burnt flesh and blood was as much of a torture as the pain he felt. Clark had burned his S shield across chest, wide and deep. His body shuddered violently from the shock. He felt his legs tugged and lifted up and held over Clark’s shoulders. Clark drove into him with one powerful thrust. Superman’s cock was hot and heavy inside him, the cum and saliva around it did little to soothe the burn as his body protested the intrusion. Superman rammed into him with just enough control not to tear him apart, over and over again with a merciless pace. Eyes glowing red and he laughed. Bruce tasted blood in his mouth he had bitten the inside of his cheeks with each brutal thrust to keep from crying out. He lay there taking everything wishing for mercy, mercy was for the dark to take him. Yet the dark was an elusive mistress, leaving him awake, awake to pain, awake to feel everything. Awake to his own destruction.

 

                                               -------------------------

 

Fuck. He sat up on his bed. He gave it a minute, his senses were still swimming from the alcohol and drugs. _Great. I made it home_. Bruce stole a glance at the body next to him. What was her name? Tory? Tina? Wait, was it a her? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, in an effort to clear his alcohol addled brain. He looked over at the body next to him again and pulled down the sheet just to be sure. Ok, definitely a her.  Alfred will take care of her.  He stunk of some musky Dior perfume, whisky, sweat and cunt. The smell sharp in his nostrils. Another party, another easy piece of ass.

 

 _It wasn't real_. _It wasn't real_. _It wasn't real._ He chanted under his breath. His breaths came fast and shallow and he shook, God how he shook.

 

 Still shaking he managed to grab the pill bottle on the bedside table and popped 2 maybe three Xanax it didn’t matter anyway it was all going to be chased down by gin or bourbon or whatever the hell bottle this was. It didn't matter that every warning said you shouldn't mix psych meds with alcohol. It was the only way he could function after nights like these. Nights when his own guilt clawed in his consciousness. When his own guilt punished him. Nights when nightmares and reality blurred together that even waking did not even bring any relief. He squeezed his eyes hard trying to push back the figments of the nightmare that clung stubbornly in the light of day. Hide it. Hide it deep, deep in the dark.

 

The cold sweat that layered his skin mocked him. _You’re Bruce Wayne. You’re Batman._

 

He could hear Alfred calling out for him out there in the living room. After one more deep breath he hauled himself up and made his way to his study, but not before stepping on a discarded condom.

 

                                          ----------------------------------

 

Clark had barely blurred into his apartment when the doorbell rang. It was 8pm. He had just come back from South America, helping clear more roads for the earthquake relief effort there. When he was out for those three days it meant no Superman for three days -- people suffered and died. The earthquake, the cruise ship among other things. One of the things he had to teach himself early on was that he had to accept the fact he could not help everyone, yet he never liked it. He had wondered if Bruce realized what he had done when he almost killed him. Of course the news media had spun several things out of his “absence” speculations from him “deciding not to help this time” to him “possibly taking a vacation.” Clark knew they were just doing their job, heck, he was in the same business but he couldn’t help it, it still stung.

 

A quick look at the door showed it was Lois behind it. Lois fully armed with pizza and a bottle of wine. He knew she had been trying to get him to talk to her. He will not deny he had been avoiding her, it wasn’t the most difficult thing to do in between what he had to do as Clark Kent and Superman. His uniform had dematerialized back into his shield, after he removed his shield he tied a towel around his waist and opened the door. Somehow Lois had tracked him down, he sighed, he shouldn’t be surprised, this was Lois after all.

 

“You’re good. I just came back,” he greeted her as he kissed her cheek. He took the pizza and wine from her as she waltzed into his apartment.

 

“I can see that,” she patted his bare chest with a mischievous smile. Lois wandered into the kitchen, she opened a drawer and fished out a wine opener.

 

Clark knew there was no stopping her. “Alright, I’m filthy right now, let me shower first.”

 

“You do that, I’ll wait here. And don’t get any ideas on leaving.” She looked at him the playful glint in her eyes was replaced by concern, “Please, I just want to talk.”

 

Clark nodded, resigned. He showered, dressed and found Lois sitting on the couch, a filled wine glass on her hand. 

 

“Lo…just let it go.”

 

“Clark. No. come here.”

 

He settled next to her on the couch taking the glass of wine, she handed to him. Clark wasn’t really sure why he said that, knowing fully well she was _not_ going to let it go.

 

“You know I wasn't really on board with all of this, with Bruce. But then you looked so happy… I didn't want to be that person Clark. You know the well-meaning, but actually jealous ex… which I am sometimes but that's beside the point— “

 

He interrupted her and took her hand in his, “Lo, you know you can always talk to me.”

 

“And _you_ , can talk to me, too—Clark, I’m still your friend.”

 

He smiled a tight smile, “I know.”

 

“Clark, the drone that went rogue. What happened there. People saw you fall into the water. Then you were gone for three days. I spoke to Bruce…”

 

Clark’s heart sank, he has been trying to avoid any discussion about that rogue drone, not only because it almost killed him, he just didn’t want Lois getting more worried. He was sure Lois had a lot of questions already, and wouldn’t be satisfied with a few conciliatory explanations. Lois had called when he came back and told him how worried she was, so worried she had to talk to Bruce to find answers.

 

He took a drink before answering her. “Lo, we’re not together anymore.”

 

"What happened?”

 

“Lex meant to draw me out with the drone. It had weapons that could hurt me.”

 

He could see, the shock on her face, “What !?!”

 

"I fell into the water, but I got home with some help and Bruce was here. He found out about everything. We were both very angry. We fought.” He rushed on in an effort to downplay what happened. “There’s something from my world that could kill me, they figured it out from that debris in the Indian Ocean, they call it Kryptonite. He found out about it. Like, I said we fought I almost killed him, he almost killed me.”

 

“God! Clark! You were out there dying somewhere all that time… that bastard! I knew it Clark. Oh, I’m gonna make him sorry for this.” She had stood up, her face red and furious.

 

 _Oh, Lois_. He got up from the couch and hugged her, kissed her forehead. “It’s ok Lois. I’m fine. In the end he actually saved me. Please believe me.”

 

“Clark. No. He’s probably working with Luthor. All of this, the explosions and God only knows what else! The Senate and the military holding you responsible…they can’t do this to you” Her fists clenched against his chest while he held her tighter.

 

“Lois, promise me, just let him be. For me please. He has enough demons to deal with as it is.” Clark dipped his head, his soothing voice next to her ear.

 

She looked up at him. He looked calm, peaceful with the same gentle warmth in his eyes. God, she wanted to believe him, but her instincts told her something else.

 

Lois was about to protest once more but the pleading look he had stilled her. They were not done with this not yet not even by a long shot. She knew she had rattled a few cages, especially Stanwick’s when told him what she knew about the bombing and Luthor’s illegal use of Kryptonian tech. She’ll get to the bottom of this.

 

“Fine. I promise. It’s his lost.” She muttered against his chest as she clutched his shirt. She didn’t want him to see the lie she hid. It felt wonderful holding him like this. Tears welled up behind her eyes, once again a dam of regret and longing cracked within moments of breaking.

 

“Ok, let me get my laptop.” She let go him and pushed him away, she rushed to the kitchen table—thankful she left her bag there, it gave her the much needed distance from him right now.

 

“Lois, “he said in that quiet voice of his.

 

She could feel his eyes on her as she gathered her things, “Clark. I brought pizza. We might as well get some work done. Not everything has to revolve around your boy problems.” Lois smirked at him, while opening her files.

 

Clark knew she wasn’t going to let go, guilt ate at him like a festering wound, once again he had put Lois in danger.

 

 

 

TBC

 

Author’s Note:

So sorry for the non-update for like the past two months. Thank You all for your patience.

The next chap is coming shortly, fingers crossed.

Thank you for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

IT WAS one of those tiny islands in the Aegean Sea. Arthur knew it was there, the island itself can only be revealed to him when he carries the King’s Trident because of the enchantment that surrounded it. From the sea all that was visible was the rugged coastline where clear sapphire waters melted against towering chalk white cliffs. Two gigantic rock spurs as tall as the island’s highest cliffs, rose out of the water flanked the island. For Arthur they resembled giant ancient monsters frozen in stone, ready to come to life to defend the island if needed.

Shielded from the rest of the world, it wasn't plagued by ships or cavorting tourists. The only sounds came from the wind, the sea and the seabirds that called out to each other along the cliff’s crevices. Even the sun was less harsh here, the light clouds canted the sunlight in a way that softened sharp boulders that ringed the island adding more to its unearthly beauty. The Amazon had asked to meet here, on top of a rocky promontory on its coast.  Nobody really knew where her people lived but this was one of the small islands in the area that was under their protection.

He never saw her come up from the beach, it would seem she appeared out of thin air, perhaps she did, he wouldn’t be surprised. Arthur turned towards her with a slight bow. Diana, Princess of Themyscira, stood next to him, her deep and lustrous brown eyes openly studied him. The young King tried not to be intimidated by Diana, princess of a kingdom as old as Atlantis, and herself older than most Atlanteans, she exuded strength and confidence her presence anchored by an ancient power as old as the energy that flowed through the earth. But she looked far from ancient; tall and lithe, blessed by her gods with a flawless face and eternal youth. The gold tiara rested on her forehead above unbound black hair that fell in soft waves down to her waist, the deep, rich black stark against the white peplos she wore. The peplos concealed, yet as the winds caressed her, hinted a body of soft curves and lean muscles. Metal and leather vambraces intricately crafted by Hephaestus himself covered her forearms. A lasso, hung on her on her right hip, every now and then a faint gold light rippled along its length.

“The very secretive King of Atlantis has revealed himself to the Kryptonian.” Her voice a smooth contralto was strong yet warm.

She was only of the few people of the surface world that Arthur and even his fellow Atlanteans would tolerate such directness. “And why not? He is more like us than any of them. The world doesn’t deserve him.”

Diana’s unflinching eyes continued to watch him, “Be careful, Arthur.”

She could see Arthur’s hazel eyes darken, his thoughts far away for a moment as he turned the trident in his hand, “As King, I must cultivate useful alliances.”

The Amazon let him be. She will let him hide his truth for now.

“He has proven himself Diana.”

“I understand. Yet many in this world seem to think he should not be here.”

“The rest of the world will say the same thing about us if they knew. Yet the seas cover more than two thirds of the world, there is not a few among my people that believe the surface dwellers are the ones we could do without. The surface nations have no idea how easily Atlantis could go to war and take over this world. If it will ever come to that point, there is no doubt this Kryptonian will still protect their sorry assess even as they vilify him.”

Diana gazed at him sharply at his candor, “You came into this mantle as King only very recently, and you are very young. You don't know war!”

“I am King, yet not a few of my people think of me as a half breed bastard, unworthy of the crown. My human Father loved me till the end even as he missed my absent mother.  My mother the Queen of Atlantis had to leave me even as it broke her heart, to protect me. The son of two different worlds, one that is oblivious to the other and another one who regards the other as a plague to this planet. Trust me Princess, I know enough.”

“Good. For times have changed young King, we are not hidden anymore. The Kryptonian’s arrival have set into motion certain events.” 

Arthur was well aware that the surface had seen him. The time when his people could hide behind myths and legends was about to end, under water probes and drones virtually littered the oceans. He was very concerned, for now the surface world regarded him as a meta human; a rare aberrancy of nature, but he was also aware it was only a matter of time the surface world would know that Atlantis was real.

"What are you going to do?”

“A hundred years ago I walked away from mankind from a century of horrors,” she placed a hand on her lasso, “I will watch from the sidelines for now. I had told you I confirmed Luthor knows about us and Bruce Wayne has also seen the data. Of the two Luthor is the more unpredictable one.”

Arthur knew about Luthor. “Should we worry about Wayne?”

"Wayne seems to be focused on the Kryptonian and Gotham.”

\--------------------

 Clark Kent was having a rare quiet moment sitting on a bench at Metropolis Bay Park. It has been almost three weeks since the bombing in the park. It was a little after noon and he just came from visiting Jeff Alejandro at Metropolis General. Jeff was having another surgery later that day to try to save his right leg. Despite the oncoming surgery, he was in high spirits ever since his doctors told him he will not lose his sight on his right eye. Sara, Jeff’s fiancée was there and both his parents. Before he left, Jeff spoke to him privately.

“Hey, I just want to say thank you for everything.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

“Yeah, I know. But you seem to care more than others and you don’t act like you want to get out of here after you talk to me and everything and that matters a lot,” Jeff tipped his head to look at Clark with his uninjured eye.

“Jeff, it’s really not a big deal, but thanks.”

Jeff glanced at his family waiting outside the glass doors, “You know the Wayne Foundation is setting up a fund for the victims. It’s nice, it will help a lot but you know after this I still want to get back to work…I can’t just you know… I have to work.”

Even with Jeff’s upbeat tone, he could tell Jeff was very nervous, a lot hinged on the success of this surgery. Clark squeezed his uninjured shoulder gently, “Of course, you’ll get back to work.”

He stayed until the Operating Room staff came to wheel him to surgery. When he came out of the hospital, he started walking until ten blocks later he found himself at the edge of Metropolis Bay Park, the park alongside the river. He found a bench and figured this was a good place as any to have lunch. On one end he watched the ferries that shuttled back and forth between Metropolis and Gotham churn the muddy sea water. On the other end was a row of luxury apartments that overlooked a well maintained park, complete with jogging and bike lanes. The air was crisp but was not too cold, the park had its more than usual number of people on  a fall day.

While he chewed on his sandwich, his mind sifted through his thoughts. He sighed heavily, he thought about Jeff and the bombing victims; he thought about the leads Lois and him had for Luthor didn't pan out anything. All that was left among Lois and her Dark Net sources were empty warehouses and offices. Luthor must have figured out he didn’t die yet, Clark noted wryly, and therefore scrambled everything out of those places. He saw how they were all lined with lead, although this could just easily be a necessity because of X-ray equipment, he couldn't feel but be worried that they might've been experimenting with Kryptonite too. What could he do? There were days he wished he could just pick up Luthor by the scruff of his neck and just tell him to stop whatever it is he was planning. _A whole lot of good that would do_. Yet, Luthor had been strangely quiet, officially LexCorp has taken the position of “fully cooperating with the ongoing investigations about the rogue drone.” On second thought, all talk about the congressional hearings seem to have been strangely subdued. It was in a way comforting but he knew he should never be lulled by a false sense of security by the seeming lack of activity.

He thought about what Jeff said about Wayne Foundation of course it made him think of— _him_ and before he could stop himself he wondered what was he doing right now. No, he can’t be distracted, he scolded himself. He was still angry at Bruce and disappointed, frustrated and yet he worried over him. Reports of the Batman and his brutality filtered mainly through various anonymous blogs in the internet and Perry White was still against giving it significant coverage, although finally he agreed to a web only article, Clark hated that but it was better than nothing. He felt so naïve in thinking he could stop Bruce but instead--

“Hello, Kal-El.”

The sound of his Kryptonian name yanked him out of his reverie. Clark wanted to kick himself he must’ve been really out of it not to notice him. Right now Clark was really wishing he could just choke on his sandwich. He looked up from his bench  whilst shielding his eyes with his arm which he did entirely out of habit and not because he needed to, of course, he was never bothered by sun glare.

Arthur Curry, the King of Atlantis was standing right in front of him. He was wearing a light brown _Surf Wyoming_ shirt, leather jacket and jeans. A black fedora perched on top of his head barely hid his thick wavy brown hair that was tied into a loose pony tail. But even in his casual outfit he still cut quite an intimidating figure. Clark could sense people around him stop and look.

“Sorry, I think you have the wrong person.” He opted for polite cluelessness, though he had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t going to work on him.

He grinned then winked at him. “I can foretell the moods of the Seven Seas with just a slight breeze. It is nothing for me to see through all of this, Kal –El.”

Well, at least he tried. Clark sighed lightly and smiled back. “Nice shirt.”

Arthur looked down on himself. “Well, they do have water, too. May I join you?”

“I was there last winter, a cable car was stuck midway between the mountains and this gentleman was having a heart attack.” Clark said conversationally, moving to give him space on the narrow bench.

Quickly he looked down on his food and realized something, he was eating a _tuna_ sandwich!  "Sorry,” he said as he quickly wrapped the offending food item.

“Please by all means continue eating. If I had issues every time people have seafood, Earth would’ve been destroyed already. It is not at all difficult when you command the power of the seas.” He punctuated his statement with a grave look.

Clark put away his sandwich into his bag before answering, “You know I can't really let you do that.”

They stared at each other intently for a while. Somebody smirked, then a snort came from both of them. Clark wasn't sure who actually started to snicker, loudly.

“You should have seen your face, Kal-El.” Arthur said in between fits of laughter.

Clark shook his head and just laughed. Now people really noticed them, Arthur’s laughter was as big as his size. Clark didn’t care, it felt good to just... laugh.

As soon as they settled down. Clark extended a hand. “Clark Kent, I work for the Daily Planet. So yeah, this is me, when I'm not you know.”

Arthur gave a quick nod, took his hand and shook it firmly, “Nice to meet you Clark.”

“How did you find me?”

“I know you protect Metropolis. And I had a little help from Eric.”

“Eric?”

Arthur pointed a finger towards the sky. A seagull slowly circled above them before heading out to the open water.

“I’ve never been stalked by seagulls before.”

“Well, I have a whole flock of them, and that's all they do.”

“The stalking seagulls, sounds like a band name.”

“I like that! I'll tell the guys that play over at the Oblivion Bar.”

“The Oblivion Bar? Seems intense.”

Another wink. "A story for another day.”

 Clark half shrugged. “K, so, what brings you to Metropolis?”

His playful expression turned serious, “There are about six supply ships stuck near Baffin Island because of solid ice. This season, there had been a late breakup of sea ice, it has effectively blocked most shipping channels.”

Clarks eyebrows gathered, “Don’t they handle these kind of things with ice breakers?”

Arthur gave him a slight smile,“Usually they do, they rerouted the Canadian icebreaker Amundsen to come to their aid, but…”

“Let me guess something happened to the ice breaker.”

“Unfortunately, the ship’s engine malfunctioned. They’ve been trying to fix for a week. The crew is fine. The ship is well stocked with food and water and everything they could need. However, the communities along those remote territories waiting for the supply ships are running out of fuel and other vital supplies. The small hospital in particular is running really low on medical supplies, it’s the only one for about a hundred kilometers. Then there are the whales. The humpback whales are migrating to their feeding grounds, they’re getting close.”

Clark nodded thoughtfully, “That makes for a very busy Arctic.”

“I could reroute the whales. I might need help with the ships.”

“Reroute the whales.” Clark deadpanned, but his lips quirked to one side while he tried to keep from laughing again. “The surreal nature of this conversation is blowing my mind.”

“Between a godlike alien and a King of a supposedly mythical people, what other kind of conversations can we have.” They smiled at each other again.” Well, it’s more like I ask them nicely. You really don’t want to upset a 200-ton animal. Especially if there’s a whole pod of them.”

“No, of course not.”

Clark watched some seagulls fight over fish at a distance as a comfortable silence passed between them, he cleared his throat before speaking. “I’m glad you’re here. I might have done something you’re not going to like.”

“I believe I might have an idea what that would be,” Arthur said with a more pensive expression on his face.

“Look, I needed a place to quickly move the wreck of the World Engine. It wasn’t … safe where it was. Give me some time and I’ll move it out of there. I mean, I was planning to move it somewhere else, but it had been extremely crazy lately…I’m really sorry.”

“You could have asked for help. There are a lot of things in the ocean that people don’t understand. Some see it as just this big basin of blue, with plants and animals floating around, I expected more from you, Kal.”

Clark swallowed, embarrassed. He wasn’t going to make excuses. “I understand. I should’ve ask.” Clark said firmly.

They were silent for a while, Clark felt hollow at the thought of offending Arthur. They had this easy camaraderie despite the fact he was King. The thought of losing that saddened Clark.

Arthur sighed and shifted his shoulders, “You are lucky you chose well when you picked that cave. All you did was upset a couple of moray eels.” He gave him a sideways glance and a smirk.

“Don’t worry I’ll move it as soon as I can.”

“It’s fine where it is. You don’t have to rush. I understand doing what you do, you don’t have a lot of time in your hands.”

“Are you sure?” Clark felt relief bloom in his chest.

“Yes.” Amusement danced in his eyes when he saw how relieved Clark was. “If it will make you feel better I’ll charge you rent.”

Clark’s forehead creased, “I … I … don’t really have a lot.”

Arthur felt his genuine concern and took pity on him, “I was just kidding, Clark.”

 

As they talked, Bruce Wayne watched them from his monitors. He occasionally tapped into surveillance system set up along different public spaces. Bruce had programmed his facial recognition software to recognize Clark Kent, every now and then there would be an update from his database when the cameras picked him up. He felt a pang on his chest—how could he have not seen Superman in him.

“And how is Mr. Kent these days?” Alfred asked from his workbench as he soldered another circuit on the cowl of the mech suit. He had called Bruce’s activities--- blatant stalking. Bruce didn’t even bother denying it.

Bruce captured a still from the surveillance footage and stared at it. The one with Clark laughing. His chest tightened and ached, once again. He panned the cursor to the man next to him, he recognized him from Luthor’s meta-human file. The one called Arthur Curry. Filmed swimming at a depth of 21,700 feet without the aid of any visible underwater gear. Bruce’s mind can comprehend the math, thousands of psi pressing on a very human shaped body, the _how_ would be an interesting challenge to comprehend. Yet here he was walking and talking on land. Talking and laughing _with Clark._

He made a mental note to check if there was anything in Wayne Enterprises’ military assets he could reconfigure for deep sea excursions.

“Sir, aren’t there crimes being committed. Injustices that need righting. Gotham under siege by vicious unchecked forces,” Alfred’s sarcasm cut like a knife in the middle of the smooth hum of electronics and equipment. He glanced at Bruce, who was busy moving the cursor around for the umpteenth time on the same picture.

Bruce made another mental note to make a weapons inventory. He was almost sure he has nothing in his arsenal that worked deep sea. Well, there was that sonic gun he had to use for Killer Croc. Deep sea was different --there was water pressure, drag, salinity – among the other things to consider. He could modify the sonic gun or maybe develop some sort of rocket propelled harpoon. He had them, but this guy probably swam faster, he swiveled to another computer to find out the fastest speed of a marine animal. He probably wasn’t as fast as Clark, possibly faster than Killer Croc, he needed to figure out how to achieve the fastest speed possible. He plugged in various numbers on the dynamic model he had on another monitor. It has to be something lightweight he can fit into-- wait, the bat jet can’t dive that far. There was a deep sea submersible prototype, but it wasn’t fast enough, Lucius Fox won’t be happy… he’ll need to start modifications so he can start testing as soon as possible.

“I know that look, please don’t tell me you are going to pick another fight with this meta human. You might not survive this time,” Alfred said his voice slightly louder before he muttered to himself, “Why do I even try?”

“He’s good, Alfred. Better than I could expect.” Bruce finally answered with a weary tone.

Alfred sighed, the sigh of the long suffering, judging from Bruce’s answer, he had not paid attention to anything he had said for the last five minutes. “Someone wise once said, ‘Forgiveness doesn’t change the past, but it can change the future.’ Would you at least try talking to him, Sir.”

His eyes didn't leave Clark’s image onscreen. “Monsters don’t deserve forgiveness, Alfred.”

He looked down on his keyboard for a moment then he spun his chair around to face Alfred, "Do you think I should be forgiven?”

“It seems only one person can answer that question and that person is not here.  But I will give credit to where its due. I know you’ve spoken to a couple of friends trying to help our young Mr. Kent here. Dealing with a couple of monsters yourself.”

What Alfred said was true. Amanda Waller had contacted Bruce Wayne for assistance. That assistance resulted in Batman bringing in Lawson and Killer Croc back to Belle Reeve. Somewhere along the way, Superman’s name and the congressional hearings had come up. Deals were made. Each of them was fully aware of what the other was doing in not so many words. They made for strange and dangerous bedfellows yet both recognized it was necessary.

Bruce stared at the screen once again, this time he focused on Clark’s smiling face. “Alfred, its better like this for him and for me.”

\-----------

Clark punched another well calculated blow on the thick ice finally opening the shipping channels. There was the tricky job of getting through the thick ice without causing avalanches or earthquakes. He towed two of the most needed supply ships to their ports while the others made their own way to where they were needed. He offered his assistance to the icebreaker ship, they graciously refused and told him they had it under control then thanked him for helping the supply ships. Clark then helped unload the supplies off the freight ships. He airlifted the much needed equipment and medicine to the hospital. After all his efforts, Arthur invited him back to the village, the villagers had wanted to properly thank Superman.

He touched down in front of the village hall. Arthur caught up with him.” They’re going to give you a blessing and then you have to drink something.”

“They don’t have to. It’s fine I have to go.” He started to turn to take off but Arthur held his arm.

The young king released his arm. “If there’s an emergency go, but if not, this is really important to them. Please.”

He considered it for a minute but eventually gave in to the pleading look on Arthur’s face, “Alright. So, you said I have to drink something?”

Arthur gave him a playful backslap, “Yes, it’s the most important part of the whole ceremony. Just drink and smile.”

“Ceremony?” He stopped walking.

Arthur flashed him another brilliant smile. “Exactly. C’mon they’re all waiting…. it’s gonna be fine, they don’t bite.” He coaxed him further by pushing him into the town hall.

Well, he can’t really leave now without looking like an ass.

 

Arthur wasn’t kidding. It seemed everyone had gathered around inside the town hall. The mayor spoke to the crowd. Everyone bowed their heads in prayer while they softly chanted. Every now and then he could hear them say “Superman.” The whole thing made him very uncomfortable, an offshoot of having some religious group that thought he was Second Coming and actually prayed to him. He had to ask them to stop, thankfully they did although with great reluctance.  After the prayer the mayor presented Clark with a steaming bowl of soup. Clark accepted the bowl, although it smelled something vile, really vile. He glanced furtively at Arthur, who looked very serious standing with the council. He gave Clark a slight nod.

A sudden silence fell on the crowd, all eyes on Clark. Clark eyed it warily, from where he was standing the pungent smell was almost overwhelming. He X-rayed it, just to be sure there was nothing in it that could kill him. There were some unidentifiable pieces of meat that didn’t look particularly lethal, he observed. He brought it to his mouth and took a sip he thought he was going to lose it right there. The extremely strong flavors and the smell overloaded his sensitive senses. It tasted like very moldy cheese and spoiled milk mixed with rotting fish all which probably fermented in some dank basement somewhere.  Did Arthur really say he should drink ALL of it? Another furtive glance and Arthur gave him another encouraging all too innocent looking nod. So he drank the entire contents of the small bowl, it was just a regular sized soup bowl, but it felt like the whole thing took forever to finish. After he consumed the soup the elder muttered something and the whole crowd began clapping. Arthur gave a slight bow and spoke to him in his dialect. Apparently, it was the start of some sort of a feast.

“What was that?” He asked Arthur. Clark could tell he was struggling to keep a straight face.

“Most of it comes from the testicles of a sea lion fermented for at least six months. It is a rare delicacy given only to honored guests.”

“Most of it? Thanks for not telling me, I guess.” His lips curved into a smirk. “I get it; you’re trying to get back at me for stowing the wreckage in the Trench.”

He raised an eyebrow haughtily, “I’m King, I will never resort to anything so juvenile.” He paused for a moment and chuckled under his breath. “Well, you did not have to drink _all_ of it. No foreigner is expected to, it’s an acquired taste. But now, everyone finds you more impressive.”

Perhaps it was his imagination, no it wasn’t, Arthur’s smirk somehow seemed smirkier.

“Great,” he said wryly.

“It’s not that bad. You received the blessing from the gods but now you are also considered an honorary citizen of this nation for your assistance. And that means you are also allowed to pick a wife amongst their people. So if Metropolis ever gets old…”

“Very funny.”

After a couple of beats of silence as they looked at the crowd. “Do you have one?” Arthur said.

Clark gave him a perplexed look.

“A wife, girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

“No,” Clark looked away.

“I’m sorry,” a contrite look came on Arthur’s face. “I was just curious…oh…look sharp here comes the mayor, I think he’s about to introduce you to his granddaughter.”

Before Clark could answer, the mayor had come up to them. Arthur wasn’t kidding. There was an offer of marriage that Clark had to respectfully decline, hoping he wasn’t going to cause some international incident. Although he had to admit it always felt good to help and not have people doubt him or yell at him to go back to his planet. He looked at Arthur trying to signal him he needed to leave, people around him were taking pictures and videos, the subtle vibrations he had to maintain to blur his features on any recording was not easy to sustain for a long period of time. Perhaps Arthur sensed his discomfort and finally they were able to leave.

He was about to take off after all the goodbyes when Arthur stopped him, “Don’t go too far. I want to show you something.” Arthur dove into the freezing water, after several kilometers he resurfaced and waved Clark to meet him on one of the glaciers.

“Here they come. One more thing you helped accomplish today.” Arthur pointed to the sea. The biggest living things in this world, a pod of humpback whales, swimming through the channel. Despite their size, they moved, gracefully, powerfully gliding through the frigid ocean. He could hear them calling out to each other.  Every now and then one would surface, shooting a geyser of water several feet into the air with its blowhole. A slow smile spread through his face while he listened to their cheerful vocalizations as they reached their feeding grounds after a journey of thousands of miles.

Arthur glanced at him every now then. When he saw Clark’s bright smile he couldn’t help himself.

"You should smile more. Half the world’s problems would vanish.”

“Only half?” He teased even as he felt heat rise to his cheeks.

“Well, you can’t do everything, you have to leave the rest of us something to do,” Arthur’s grinned then slapped his back, “You should come with me and have dinner. I have this island north of Iceland.”

Clark hesitated, thinking of his work schedule and a myriad of other things.

“Wait, I can’t— “

Arthur grasped his shoulder, his tone earnest as he spoke, “You have to come, Vulko will be disappointed. You don’t have to stay long, if you don't want to.”

Clark was learning it was difficult to refuse Arthur.

They were standing at the edge of the glacier, “You won’t miss it. It’s the one with the white lighthouse.” Arthur yelled out before he dove into the water, his last few words drowned by waves, impossible to hear if it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing.

He sighed heavily as he briefly tracked Arthur under the water with his vision. He watched him surge through the freezing water without care, cutting through it with unnatural speed, he circled around the whales and seals playfully. Swimming for him must be like flying for me, Clark thought as he took off for the island.

When Clark found the place, it was somewhere in the middle of the Norwegian Sea, a desolate rocky black volcanic crag, about 5 acres all around and 200 feet high. There was a lighthouse that sat on top of the chimney of a former volcano. The tall white tower of stone and cast iron rose up to about five stories from its highest point, there was a gray stone building at its base. Clark could see that the only way to the top was a concrete stairway of 200 steps that hugged its treacherous side. Clark hovered around the rails that surrounded the gallery deck that wrapped around the top of the tower. He was unsure of where Arthur will be coming from. A portly, elderly gentleman emerged, dressed in Atlantean robes.

“Mr. Superman, Sir, please come in. My name is Vulko, I am His majesty’s personal steward.”

“Hello, Sir.” Clark slowly floated to stand on the deck.

“Is Ar—I mean. His Majesty is here?”

Vulko glanced at him, “Don’t worry Sir, His Highness will be arriving soon…Ahh ...here he is...”

Clark looked down and saw Arthur resurface from the ocean depths. He was on top of something that could have belonged to _Jurassic World,_ it was easily twenty feet, and resembled a crocodile;to be exact, the lovechild of a crocodile on steroids and a Lovecraftian seahorse complete with tentacles along its nostrils. It was covered with luminescent light to dark green scales and had jaws that could easily snap a Mack truck in two. It had on an impressive harness on which Arthur sat astride, he looked up and waved at Clark.

Clark couldn't help himself he quickly flew down to where Arthur was and hovered in front of the beast, “Wow!”

The seahorse/ crocodile jerked its head. It made a low bellow, more like a combined hiss and growl, then exhaled explosively through its massive nostrils. Clark was able to move sideways just in time to prevent being soaked by mist, sea water and what looked like gray sea beast snot.

“Friendly, isn’t he?” He chuckled.

Arthur laughed heartily and scratched the beast along its jaw. Its tentacles wiggled and it made a low throaty sound, somewhere between a purr and a growl. Clark flew closer to Arthur, he was almost sure that the animal can’t hurt him, but he felt he shouldn’t take chances especially with beasts from mythical kingdoms.

"It's actually a she. Zee, here is just saying ‘Hi’. Now, Zee. Be nice, this is our guest.”

The animal gave another hiss then possibly a purr and growl combination. This one seemed less “growly.”

“Ok, Kal. Put your hand next to her tentacles, so she’ll know your scent.”

“What, now?!?” He shook his head vigorously, “No, thank you.”

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. She knows you’re a friend, I told her.”

“Ok…” Clark hovered closer and gingerly touched the tentacles with his fingertips. The orange tentacles felt firm and rough. It was about a foot long on each side of its face with its surface covered with short bristles. The animal tipped its head into his hand and started rubbing against it. Then, it really _purred_ , its tentacles started wrapping around his hand.

Arthur blinked and made a choked sound, more like an embarrassed laugh, “Zee, that’s enough. She has decided she likes you.” Zee released Clark’s hand, her tentacles retracted back into its bony cavity.

“Let’s go up, now. Goodbye, Zee.” Arthur gave her another head rub. Zee purred then snorted.

“Need a lift?” Clark offered a hand to Arthur.

Arthur winked at him then raised his trident as he jumped off his animal. A geyser of water spouted in between them. In one quick movement Arthur rode the geyser all the way up to the lighthouse deck, he landed lightly next to Vulko, not even a drop of water splashed on the steward.

Clark touched down across him, “As far as entrances go, I think the only way I could beat this is if I land in a giant fireball.”

The Atlantean chuckled. "Obviously, we have a more discrete underwater entrance. But that was more fun.”

“Don’t people or satellites see you?” Clark wondered thinking how he always had to super speed or had to come up with creative ways to avoid detection.

“No. Let's just say, Atlantis has its ways,” he said in a confident tone.

“I can see that.” Clark smiled back still clearly impressed. They stood around not saying anything, suddenly awkward until they heard Vulko clear his throat.

“Your Majesty, I prepared everything as you requested.”

“Vulko, Thank you, old friend. Please, go rest now, it’s quite late. I’ll take care of our guest.”

“As you say so, Sir.” The steward bowed and went inside the lighthouse. Clark could hear a door shut and his fading footsteps as he made his way down the winding staircase.

“So, you live here with him?” He asked as they started walking inside.

“Yes, only during certain times of the year. Vulko keeps a residence here, that house at the base of the tower. He divides his time between Atlantis and making sure I attend to my kingly duties.” Arthur flashed him a small mischievous smile before continuing, “Atlantis had owned this island and the lighthouse for at least  two hundred years now. With GPS and more sophisticated navigation systems nobody depends on lighthouses alone. This one here is fully automated, complete with a solar powered lamp. It has a single stationary light, timed to flash at regular intervals. Fortunately, a rare lizard lives here and so we were able to list it as a nature reserve, thus lawfully keeping everyone else away. We make everything official through a very small, very private corporation.”

Somehow they’ve stopped walking, although it was just a couple of steps till they could go inside the small living quarters on top of the lighthouse. The sun was just setting and Clark watched the changing northern skies above them. Long arcs bluish green light started appearing and shimmered on the horizon. Clark could also see small arcs of pink and dark red on its edges.

“Can we stay out here for a minute?” He leaned against the rails lightly, as he took a long slow breath.

“Sure, we’ll go in once you’re ready to eat.”

“Thanks, we don’t have this in Metropolis. It’s beautiful. I mean I see the lights when I’m flying, but barely, I’m usually rushing to get from one end of the world to the other.”

Arthur looked at him intently, “I’m sure Metropolis has its own…charms.” After a pause he tilted his head towards Clark’s chest. “So you told me this is your family’s sigil?”

“Yes, in my planet it means hope.”

Arthur leaned closer, “You must have come from good people,” he whispered.

Clark nodded, conscious of the shrinking distance between them,” They were. My parents, tried to save Krypton, but they couldn’t so they sent me here in a ship when I was a baby hoping I would live. And Ma and Pa the ones who found me here…the Kents… I was really lucky.”

“That’s a lot of hope for someone so small, to send you so far. I myself am not a stranger to such sacrifices.” His tone was solemn yet wistful.

Arthur’s words brought a strange ache and warmth within his chest. It was nice to talk to someone who shared similar circumstances. The air was still around them with the barest of Arctic breeze. Arthur smelled of cool sea water mixed with the slight tang of metal and leather. Clark smiled, “Again, thanks for being so gracious about the wreck.  If you ever need help with anything else, you know where to find me.”

“And you know to call me. Anytime. You didn't hide anything else in the ocean, did you?”

“No, of course not!” The slight pink tinged now turned a fiery red.

Arthur just grinned, he found the blushing, his discomfiture quite disarming. From the first Arthur saw him fall into the ocean a long time ago when he helped the oil rig workers, he had felt a pull towards him. He vowed to stay away, he was successful for the most part until he saw him once again fall into waters of Metropolis weak and helpless and so he broke his vow.

He couldn’t deny it anymore. Certainly the Amazon must have sensed it. Gods, he wasn't even sure if Kal liked men. He was King, he scolded himself. Act kingly. Either do something or let it go. Decide. Now.

Arthur looked down and smoothed a palm over his trident’s staff. He shifted his weight, a slight smile played on the side of his lips. He rolled his shoulder before he looked straight into Clark’s eyes, “Maybe we could see each other again and we’ll call it even.”

There he said it.

Clark felt his brain blank out for a moment. “Oh…” _Oh? Yes, Clark. The man just asked you out._

“I’m sorry I'm not even sure if you liked men,” he rushed when he sensed Clark hesitate, he felt self-conscious again.  “In Atlantis it's not an issue, but if it is with you, I'll respect it.” Despite the cool air, Arthur felt his palms get sweaty, so sweaty his trident almost slid off his hand. He gripped his trident’s staff, harder, the Atlantean steel a solid comfort as he felt increasingly uneasy under Clark’s impossibly blue gaze, that shade just between the blue of the Arctic and the Aegean Sea, in this light. _Oh, Gods…Fuck._

“Kal, I — “

“I like women— “Clark dipped his head, picked up the edge of his cape and tugged it.

“Oh…” Arthur felt his chest plummet into his stomach.

“… and men, too.”

_Oh._

Arthur watched as Clark’s long lashes fanned out on his cheeks when he blinked. Watched how his cheeks were still pink. Watched how his muscles flexed and moved gloriously under that ridiculously skin tight outfit. But he will forever thank the gods for the alien culture that deemed it necessary to wear something so revealing.

The Atlantean King knew what he wanted to do yet found himself hesitating, he realized how much he wanted Kal (he loves calling him that, loves how that one syllable rolls out of his tongue) to not only like him but want him also. As much as he wanted to run his thumb along his smooth jaw right at this moment, he had to stop himself. Clark let go of his cape and stood there watching him too. Arthur found that encouraging, he leaned his trident against a wall to free his hand then moved closer. He lifted a hand letting his fingers trail down Clark’s arm.

“Beautiful,” he murmured appreciatively, although he felt somewhat silly for it was something of a well-known fact.

Arthur’s fingers felt feather light yet firm as it lingered a while as he traced the shape of the muscles on his arm. Too close.  He should just go now, fly away. He knows what this is. Yet it felt good, almost hypnotic. No. _Too close_. Too soon after Bruce.

 _Too soon_.

But Arthur’s touch felt too good, and the way Arthur looked at him right now, there was this place somewhere inside of him that craved that touch, that attention. Why does it have to feel this way again? And maybe because they were here in the middle of nowhere surrounded by blue green lights and the now dark sea with only the sound of the sea birds and waves crashing against the gigantic volcanic boulders below them. And it was far, far from everything, the doubt, the hate, far from things that hurt. Then yes, the distance, the different kind of quiet, began to drown the screaming voices of sensibility and logic inside his head. He did not want to leave anymore.

Arthur’s deep green eyes looked into his asking for silent permission, there was no mistaking for what. He saw the uncertainty in Kal’s eyes, he felt that frangible moment where Kal could certainly just fly away and never see him again.  He waited and when Kal didn't move nor object,  he slowly brought down his mouth to meet his. He even smelled wonderful, even after that revolting soup. It was like being enveloped in warm, clean, crisp air after all the lightning and rain. It must be how clouds smell Arthur thought.

Each of them felt the hesitation of the other, after a couple of beats they deepened the gentle kiss, it became less unsure but still soft and undemanding. Mouths slanted against the other, tongues slid as they fed off a mutual need to taste, to explore. Arthur pulled him closer, digging his fingers into Clark’s curls. Arthur’s metal vambraces felt pleasantly cool against his heated skin. Clark yielded as his hands began to follow each dip and curve of Arthur’s hard body, 

Clark felt the world start to spin away when the kiss deepened. He felt Arthur’s hips fit over his, he felt the weight of his arousal through the leather leggings. He felt his own arousal rub against his. Clark wanted to give into the heat and roll into the contact, yet he broke the kiss and leaned back slightly, but remained close enough, their soft pants gusted over the tips of their noses and over lips.

Arthur did not want to stop, he stifled a moan then took a deep breath, “No doubt, you have an idea how I feel for you. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time, now.” It was strange to admit it out loud, he felt relieved yet vulnerable laying it all bare and open in front of this magnificent man.

“Arthur…”

"I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice low. He let his fingers glide over the back of his hand, his thumb making slow circles on the inside of Clark’s wrist.

“No, I don’t mean it that way.” Clark looked down briefly, something inside his chest lifted then twisted into regret. He looked into Arthur’s eyes and held his gaze, “Look, it was really good, too good… but, I can't … I'm sorry, I just got out of a relationship. And I really need to sort myself out before anything.”

“Is that why you always look so sad.”

He wasn’t sure why but a flash of irritation started in his gut, he was about to say something about how people should just mind their own business and not have birds or fishes stalk him, but he stopped himself, what happened wasn’t Arthur’s fault.

Arthur sighed deeply,” Kal, don’t answer that, it’s really none of my business.” The Atlantean stepped back, immediately missing the close contact of their bodies as he tried to ignore the wounded feeling that started in his chest. “What do you want to do now? I mean, Vulko prepared all this food. But if you want to leave, I understand.”

He really did not want Clark to go.

“Thank You, Arthur,” Clark said softly. There was nothing else to say or do he will not prolong what shouldn’t be. He lifted up gradually, Arthur watched him till he disappeared in the clouds after a couple of seconds he heard air crack above him from the sonic boom.

Arthur stared at the horizon for a minute, then he opened the heavy glass and metal door into what once served as the service room of the lighthouse, now outfitted as a more comfortable living quarters. Narrow metal stairs curved in the middle of the room. Above them was the Lantern Room with all the lighting computer and equipment. He looked through the food that that Vulko prepared and despite his disappointment smiled as his steward’s thoughtful preparation. There was a selection of seafood and meats, fruits and bottles of wine from the royal wine cellar and a bottle of a more potent Atlantean liquor.

Once again he sighed deeply, feeling his cock was still half hard made him chuckle. He might need to jump into the cold ocean, he thought.

He was going to drink some wine, but after all that he decided he needed something that was well stronger. He opened the more potent amber colored liquor and just took a swig straight from the bottle.

“I can’t believe you have cheeseburger,” an amused voice spoke from the doorway.

His felt his chest leap as soon as he heard his voice. “I wasn’t sure if you liked seafood. There’s steak too, if you want it.” He said carefully his back still turned away from the door, trying to curb the excitement that flared inside him.

“You came back.”

“That I did.” Clark stood close next to him, he pointed at the bottle Arthur was holding,

“May I?”

Arthur nodded, jerkily. Clark took a long drink from the same bottle, his eyes remained fixed on Arthur. Arthur held his gaze then let his eyes travel the path from Clark’s jaw down to his neck finally resting on top of his chest where tuffs of curly dark hair peeked out underneath his uniform.

“That my friend is whisky from Atlantis. Aged in seasoned barrels for at least twenty years in the temperature controlled caverns in the Ninth Tride. You just drank enough to render 20 Atlanteans unconscious.”

“It was a little…heady…we can have that for breakfast,” Clark said as he examined the Atlantean writing on the bottle before carefully setting it down on the table.

“Breakfast?”

“The cheeseburger.” Clark clarified.

“Breakfast.” Arthur breathed in disbelief. His cock that had barely softened was now a raging erection. Never one for wasting time, he does have two thirds of the world under his care, Arthur removed his pauldrons, his vambraces then his armor until all that was left was his leggings with an impressive tenting in the front. Part human and part something else, he was magnificent, broad, all hard muscles. Tattoos covered his powerful arms and chest, dark broad lines formed an open inverted triangle on his torso, its base encircled the area below his pecs, the triangle narrowed down to the muscled V of his groins. These were the markings of his people.

While the Kryptonian stood transfixed at the sight before him anxious thoughts swirled around his head. When he left Arthur he had intended to just call it a night and go home before he could do something truly regrettable yet somehow for the second time that night, he ended up on the lighthouse’s balcony.

Clark once again found it hard to refuse Arthur. Well, truth be told as he raced above the Pacific Ocean airspace the second time after circling the earth in a futile attempt to clear his head, he found he _did not want_ to refuse Arthur.

The machinery on the lantern room above them began to turn on, its low hum starting the automated sequences of lights that would flash across the Norwegian Sea. The rhythmic flashing was in tandem with his stuttering heart. Perhaps Arthur sensed his uneasiness, he moved closer and placed his hands on the small of Clark’s back and began slow, sensuous movements with the tips of his fingers grazing his clothed skin.

Arthur kissed him just a soft brush of lips, feeding the tingle in his groins, “Tell me what you want, Kal-El” he asked gently.

 “I want to continue where we left off.”

 

 

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Yeah, I know this ship. I blame it on Jason Momoa. 

Arthur's Lighthouse is an actual lighthouse in Stromboli, Italy -- called the Strombolicchio Lighthouse. I just relocated it.

Thanks to all your kudos and comments, they really inspire me.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you guys want to read more AquaSupes, I wrote a one shot with Arthur/Bruce/Clark called [Meta-Analysis](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7671976)
> 
> My tumblr: [cryptmirror](http://www.tumblr.com/blog/cryptmirror)


	8. Chapter 8

 

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute

 will reverse.

\-----The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Elliott

 

I don't want to traumatize my gentle readers like the last time. So, here's a fair warning: this chapter update is just some classic, possibly epic shagging (Hah!) between ~~Jason and Henry~~ , err… Arthur and Clark. Thank you very much for your kind attention. Enjoy!

* * *

 

 

 

HE WANTED this, right? Then why was he so damned nervous. It wasn’t because of... _No_ it was just nerves. _He liked Arthur_. _Really_ liked him. Great, now he was thinking like an idiot. He stopped himself from thinking past that. Alright, Kent, he scolded himself _you_ left then came back.

 

Since his fight with Zod, he has learned a couple of things. Certain things like calculating wind speed, force, acceleration so he could safely land things like a space shuttle. His now instinctual control of his heat vision can be used to toast a single loaf of bread to …melting tons of steel to bring down a skyscraper. In the end, there was always something he could do—be there, to help.  But this right now _this_ was infinitely harder.  

 

Clark felt Arthur’s hand snake behind his neck, he leaned into his hold.  Arthur’s eyes were dark and hungry as their lips met. Kisses flavored with spices, whiskey and a hint of the sea. The soft beard on Arthur’s face rubbed gently on his sensitive cheeks heightened his arousal, melting away his nerves. Clark leaned in further against Arthur’s body and opened to him.

 

Arthur was getting lost in the kiss, yet a part of him was hoping that this man will not change his mind once again even with his invitation to be fucked. Here he was almost naked in front of him, they were halfway to each other’s tonsils and Kal did not even remove his cape yet. He bunched the thick yet fluid material in his hand, while his mouth travelled down Kal’s neck.

 

“This… off…” He tugged on Kal’s cape while he murmured urgently against the skin of his neck.

 

There was a soft chuckle. One moment he was tugging at the cape the next it was gone and his hand was empty and landed smack on to the very smooth, the very hard, the _very bare_ flesh of Kal’s back. Startled, he stepped back, Kal’s cape was gone so was the _entire_ back portion of the suit. The alien material on his body had shifted like a living thing, its appearance changed from smooth to something similar to minute scales. The material edged away exposing more of Kal’s bare skin until all that remained was the sigil on his chest.

 

“Gods...” he stopped, his mouth gaping open at Kal’s nude body. He stared at the way the suit moved uncovering Kal … _Kal._ It was the sexiest thing, ever. He felt like he was opening this gleaming present on Christmas morning. It was better than that.

 

Kal was truly magnificent. Muscles, bones all perfectly arranged under all that smooth skin. Arthur knew his own genetics and heritage had blessed him too. He was a man never at a lost for willing lovers human and Atlantean. Yet it was still somewhat intimidating, like the time he first faced Atlantis’ esteemed War Council. A frightening group of Atlanteans wise, battle scared and powerful. Most, older than the oldest deep sea creatures and just as cranky. The War Council. Breath. Good, thinking of the War Council helped, because he was so fucking horny right now, he was going to burst.

 

The S shield coruscated softly from the energy of the concentrated nanites, giving him an otherworldly glow that made Arthur doubt if he was indeed real. Without breaking his gaze from Arthur’s eyes, Clark removed the sigil on his chest and laid it down on the table.

 

“That’s very practical.” Arthur’s voice was low and hungry.

 

“I come from a very advanced race, Arthur,” came Clark’s calm answer, a smirk playing on his lips.

 

He moved closer and started kissing him, slow, small kisses along his lips, jaw, “Well, as King—” he said in between kisses, “I’m always up for some sort of cultural exchange—so show me, how does your race fuck…”

 

The Kryptonian flushed at his words, breathing a little bit faster, the cool air prickling his bare, over sensitive skin, he pressed himself harder against Arthur. Clark had let go, giving in to the sensations feeding his lust, his need.

 

While Arthur felt he was about to break with the contact, Clark’s nerves were on edge this time for a far different reason. Arthur’s light touches was driving him nuts. “Arthur, please…harder” Clark pushed against him.

 

“Someone like you needs to be worshipped,” his deep voice teased while he caressed his ass.

 

Clark laughed, there was a slight shift in the air and in the next breath Arthur found himself laying down on the bed and looking up at Kal. Kal against the reflection of the lighthouse lights. Arthur grinned when he realized what else Kal had done, somewhere along the way he had removed Arthur’s leggings.

 

“You are worse than sin.” Arthur hissed at the man on top of him.

 

Clark eased himself lower, one leg in between in between his thighs the other just lazily straddled over one of Arthur’s massive legs, a playful glint in his eyes,  “So, I always wondered how far these tattoos went down, Arthur. They look so fierce.”

 

“You never peeked?”

 

“Where’s the fun in that.”

 

“Arthur.” Kal licked a spot next to his navel. The Atlantean stiffened, a curse and a moan came out of his lips as Kal whispered his name. Kal’s tongue hot and moist, dragged across his lower abdomen tracing his intricate markings there, mapping them with his fingers and tongue. “Kal,” he gasped urgently. It was a sweet world between torture and pleasure. It was hot and painstakingly slow, punctuated by licks and nibbles at certain points of the markings, and gusts of Kal’s warm breath.

 

"All the way down here…” came Kal’s deep chuckle, right before he lapped at the dark ink right above the root of his cock, slow, wet and hot. Carefully, as though ingraining each line, each swirl of ink in his memory with his tongue and fingers.  Arthur took a deeper breath, and gripped the sheets, letting out a strangled moan as he forced another image of the terrifying War Council in his head just to gain some control.

 

When he slid down to Arthur’s shaft Clark felt something hard. He drew his lips away, curious. Looking down between them Clark saw the light glinting from a metal at the underside of his skin near the tip of his long, thick, wet cock. It was a Prince Albert piercing. He had Cat Grant to thank for this tidbit of knowledge. One of the "advantages" of sitting across Cat Grant's office was not only hearing about Daily Planet gossip but also her very active dating life, sometimes he didn't even need super hearing. The sight of the Prince Albert piercing made Clark shiver, the thought of it was both scary and exciting.

 

He stopped his ministrations, much to Arthur’s frustration, and looked up at him, brows knitted, “Did that hurt?”

 

“Well at first, but now it provides more interesting sensations. It won’t hurt you, Kal.”

 

“I’m not worried. Is that a thing with you guys in Atlantis?” Kal said, a little too calmly for Arthur’s taste. Not when his cock twitched and ached. Not when he can feel Kal’s steel hard arousal nudging against his leg.

 

“Kal, I swear to all the gods I don’t go around looking at other people’s dick,” he ground out. “If you don’t fucking move  right now, I’ll have all kinds of creatures stalk you in Metropolis…”

 

“Tsk…tsk… Your Highness. You are crass.” Clark ran an exploring hand gently hand over the jewelry at the tip. The metal felt cooler than the heated flesh below it. Arthur’s cock jerked with his touch. Slowly he slid down further and slid the head of the Atlantean’s cock in between his lips, Clark licked into his slit in between the metal and the flesh and started sucking. Sparks of pure pleasure shot through his entire body. Arthur tugged at Clark’s hair, drawing groans from deep within his chest moaning with pleasure with the heat and suction.

 

He wasn’t going to last like this,"Kal, Kal," he gritted out. Clark smiled around his shaft and mouthed more of Arthur’s cock. Arthur pushed his hips into his mouth demanding more, Clark did not let up, his hands clasped firmly against Arthur’s flesh pulling him in. Heat and pressure all the way down to Arthur's shaft up to his entire body. The Prince Albert piercing ran against Kal’s hot tongue as Arthur fucked his mouth, again and again and again; a strong hand stroked his balls and slid up the crack of his ass, “Fuck—Kal! … _Jesus_! In the deep recesses of his lust addled brain, Arthur thought he must have done something right in the universe to experience this.

 

“Kaaal!!!” He gasped, yelled out. Possibly everyone on this side of the world, including those deep below the reaches of his Kingdom heard him. He threw his head back as his whole body spasmed and shot long spurts of cum over his thigh, stomach and chest. Arthur shuddered, Clark took his still leaking cock and stroked it hard and fast as he came apart once again, hot cum all over Kal’s hand.

 

He panted, laid there boneless, like a fucking dehydrated starfish thrown on a beach. Limbs splayed, a sweaty, sticky mess but so wonderfully spent. Air is good thing right now. Yeah…air.

 

The other man jumped off the bed, a smile quirked his lips, eyes down. He slipped out his pink tongue and licked the trail of cum off his lips, to Arthur's satisfaction.  Kal leaned over, nose to nose with Arthur and planted a kiss. A kiss that was too quick for Arthur, the air shifted once again and Kal was gone, replaced by the sounds of running water in the bathroom. He came out and handed Arthur a moist towel, before he made his way to the table. “Thanks.” While he cleaned himself he glanced at Kal, the view of his retreating backside drove Arthur crazy, the round, firm muscles--- he was getting hard again just looking at that bare ass.

 

Clark drank more of the Atlantean wine, then ran his tongue across his lips. He caught Arthur’s intense stare and winked.

 

“That was …huh…you don’t mess around.” Arthur said.

 

“No I don’t.” Clark took another swig. “This is good.” He made his way to out to the deck and leaned against the rail. "I like it here. Nothing for hundreds of miles except the sea and the sky. Peaceful.” _Almost_. It wasn’t the moon or the highest mountain but close enough.

 

Something about the way he sounded, the way he looked out far and away Arthur guessed, with that vision of his. That wave of sadness once again. That wave of sadness that he wished he could take away. Yet as King he knew that there were some burdens men should bear. It was probably that situation he talked about earlier. Somebody else. But whatever or whoever it could be, Arthur assured himself, Kal came back and he was here now with him.

 

Arthur grabbed a blanket and threw it over himself and joined him at the deck. He stood close to him and placed the blanket over their shoulders. “We don’t want to scare the birds and fishes.” Clark gave a small smile and held the other side of the sheet.  

 

Arthur reached over and took the bottle from him, he took a quick drink while he eyed him closely, “Are you ok? You know you can tell---“

 

Clark turned to him suddenly and placed his lips on his. They kissed, slow, warm, wine flavored kisses. “I’m fine,” he murmured against Arthur’s lips.

 

“Alright, if you say so. That was a lot of alcohol.”

 

He was rewarded with another low laugh. They remained holding each other for a minute. “Let me take you somewhere.” _And maybe just for a moment help you forget_.

 

Kal started to move away, “Sure, let me just put on something.”

 

“This is fine.” Arthur released him and wrapped the thick blanket around his shoulders.

 

Clark didn’t need it but it felt wonderful  against his skin and smelled of fresh linen and sea breeze. And he figured Arthur felt better if he had it. “So where are we going? I can just fly us there, if you want.”

 

“It’s a surprise. Close your eyes.” He stood there actually waiting for Clark to do it.

 

Clark closed them with a smirk. “You know this doesn’t really work on me.”

 

He could hear Arthur going back inside the lighthouse moving things around. “Humor me then, didn’t people ever try to surprise you?” he muttered under his breath, knowing full well Kal can hear him.

 

“Alright, Arthur."

 

“Keep it closed.” Arthur was back outside on the deck, he placed an arm around his waist. “This will feel strange, you’ll probably figure out what it is, but keep them closed” He gave him a another quick kiss.

 

Clark, felt he was being lifted up as he leaned against Arthur’s hard body. He felt something cool beneath, it undulated briefly then stilled. _He’s manipulating water._ After a bite of frigid air, he felt them go down to ground level. They should stop soon he thought, but they didn’t yet, going further down. There was still movement, different smells, the smell of the ocean now replaced with a touch of sulfur, iron, silica, traces of other minerals. He felt his feet touch solid ground. Loose soil… heat.

 

He could feel Arthur moving around once again. “Can I open my eyes now, can I, please?” he teased.

 

Arthur gave a short laugh, “Impatient. Go ahead.”

 

It was exciting and just …fun. He took his time, didn’t feel like opening his eyes right away, he waited for a couple of seconds just savoring this moment, this feeling. He heard Arthur’s heart beat accelerate slightly, Clark decided it wasn’t nice to keep him waiting and opened his eyes.

 

Arthur stood there, a blanket spread on the ground and a basket at his feet, a crooked smile on his face. _Arthur prepared this_. A queasy feeling twisted in Clark’s stomach, a mixture of guilt and confusion warring with pleasure but that slowly dissipated as soon as he saw where he was.

 

One of these days, he swore to himself he should just take time to travel. Travel not to get away or find himself but just see the world, not in brief snatches of time when he’s super-speeding. See it for just the pure wonder of it. For somebody who goes to space in a regular basis and sees the entire Earth above 250 miles away, there were things that needed to be seen up close. Like this place.

 

They were inside an underground cave. Above him was the large fissure on the ground where they entered. Shards of moonlight filtered through the fissure into the cave. It would have been still dark even with the moon, but scattered around the cave were different crystals that emitted soft white light. Clark recognized them as Atlantean crystals. The cave itself was just… beautiful.

 

“As you probably know we are in the bowels of a _mostly_ dormant volcano.” Arthur explained.

 

It was quite expansive for something underneath what looked like a giant boulder in the middle of the sea. The ceiling was twenty feet in some places. The cave walls were made of large slabs of rock from light gray to almost black. The minute crystals trapped within the rocks fractured the light from the moon and the Atlantean crystals breaking it into an unexpected blend of oranges, blues and greens. Some of the black rocks were glossy, resembling large chunks of black glass that added to its surreal quality, if there was a hidden subterranean fantasy world this would be it.

 

In the middle of it all was a pool fed by a hot spring, the water followed along the curves of the cave wall. The pool was spacious enough, it could easily hold twenty people. A light mist floated over it. The mineral rich blue stones below gave the clear water a light blue tint that made it eerie yet tempting.

 

Clark didn’t realize how long he was staring at everything around him, mouth gaping in frank amazement. Arthur removed his leggings, and stepped into the water.

 

“Come here Kal, water’s great.”

 

He blinked, his attention sufficiently averted. He dropped the blanket and joined Arthur in the water. It was hot yet soothing. He figured the temperature was around 40-50 degrees Celsius.

 

Clark floated on his back, spinning slowly on the water, almost like a kid making snow angels. “If the water wasn’t so hot, you could make this into some sort of tourist attraction.” he said idly.

 

Arthur was a couple of feet away from him, eyes closed, floating, just letting the water cradle him. “That might not work out too well. This spring connects to an underwater cave that leads to Atlantis.”

 

Both swam around for a while, relaxing, talking quietly, their voices softly echoing around them within the soft mist. Clark told him, apologetically, when he worked on a crabbing boat in one of his many travels before he settled in Metropolis. Arthur told him about the time right after his father died, how he had become a useless drunk. So drunk, he got into a bar fight because he decided to save a lobster from becoming somebody’s dinner. They circled each other, slowly coming closer, before they finally kissed, a chaste kiss compared to all the other kisses they’ve had.

 

“It’s really hot.” Clark breathed. _And my dick is really, really, hard._

 

“We should get out.” Arthur agreed, his voice almost a low growl.

 

They toweled off then laid on the blanket, both naked. “This has just become one of my favorite places.” Clark said. He was on his side, head propped up on an elbow, his eyelids fluttered down.

 

"I’m glad, Kal.” Arthur's lustful gaze travelled all over him. “Perhaps, we can do something about that.” He glanced down at Kal’s cock. Arthur knew he was big and Kal's boner was the size of his thighs. Superman. They weren’t kidding with the name.  “Tell me what you like.”

 

“Fuck me hard,” Superman answered softly.

 

Three simple words. What could be submission for other men, somehow it didn’t feel like that with Kal.  Arthur took a deep breath, told himself to get his shit together or else he’ll just lose his mind right there. KingofAtlantisKingofAtlantisKingofAtlantis. He was about to fuck Superman. Kal’s eyes glinted, dark blue ringed with fire red. Whatever was there before was replaced by a hot need. It was more than thrilling. He gave Kal’s cock a lazy tug. It was so warm, he could feel his blood pulsing, in fact his entire body was just all heat. Pulsing. Heat.

 

 “What are you waiting for.”

 

The deep timber of Kal’s voice made his cock jerk.  Kal looked at him with eyes bright and heavy with need and something else and just kissed him. It wasn’t gentle it was hungry and desperate almost overpowering but for Arthur the hunger made him just open to that kiss, it pushed away whatever was inside that head of his. He could feel Kal’s strength as he pushed down on him, sucking on Arthur’s tongue, grinding himself against him. That strength excited him. Kal fed him ragged moans that enflamed him. He got his other arm around Kal’s thick frame and flipped them over.

 

Kal chuckled, another low and husky one. “Now, we’re talking.”

 

Arthur grunted, his sexy taunt drove him crazy pushing him over the edge. He bit down on a peaked nipple then laved it with his tongue. He put his weight on top of him and pinned one wrist hard against the ground. His eyes roamed over as he surveyed his reaction. Gods, he was beautiful. Flushed, eyes on him, curls plastered on his forehead from the moist air, the strong planes of his face. The body of a young god. He never wanted anyone as much as he wanted him. But could he be his? His alone?

 

Arthur slid down, kissing the taut muscles of his groin, soft kisses, hard kisses, biting kisses that purpled his smooth skin, if only for the briefest moment. Clark, just wanted him to just stop, yet not stop. He whined low on his throat, he thought Arthur would just take him right there. But he was down there, doing things. God his hands, his mouth on his cock, his beard, that soft beard once again; rubbing, brushing his skin, giving him soft tingles on his thigh, tightening his balls, tingles that seared from his groin then up and down his spine. He could be undone right there and then.

 

“Arthur…ngggh…. please….please…” His hands fisted into Arthur’s hair.

 

Arthur grunted once again, his mouth released his cock.  Clark felt him roll over quickly as he gabbed something from the basket. In an eye blink Arthur was over him.

 

The King pushed Clark’s knees apart and knelt in between his thighs. Clark waited arousal and expectation, almost overwhelming him. He felt Arthur’s fingers slicking his hole. The contact made Clark hiss. He grasped his hand tight to stop him and looked at him in the eyes.

 

“I can take you.”

 

“Sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Most men could have been destroyed by that alone. But Arthur knew he wasn't most men. And he wasn't going to leave Superman unsatisfied. Arthur slicked his cock, then his hands grasped Clark’s hips harder as he ran the head of his shaft between Clark’s cheeks, drawing out soft breathy gasps from him. He relished the sounds Clark made, Arthur teased his slick cock on his rim watching the Kryptonian swear and hiss under his shuddering breath with every pass of his cock.

 

" _Arthur_!" Clark gasped out under him.

 

He loved it when he got his lovers to this moment shaking for it, _begging_ for it. And Kal was just so beautiful worked over like that, he pushed in with a quick thrust and entered Kal.

 

Arthur just reveled on the sight of Clark's rim around his cock," I got you…gods you’re so tight.” Gradually, he drove deeper and deeper inside him allowing Clark to adjust to his girth.

 

“Harder, Arthur…”

 

 _Fuck_.

 

Clark’s arms were free now, a hand made its way in between them, to his aching, dripping cock.

 

Arthur growled, more feral thus time,"No.” He swatted Kal’s hand away from his erection.

 

Arthur once again held him down with one hand, in the only way the King of the Seas could. It was wild, feeling the Atlantean King’s strength almost equal to his. A strength pulled from the Earth's Oceans. His strong hand pumped Clark as he pistoned in and out of his ass. Pulling out then thrusting himself deep up to his shaft. Clark drawing him in with wild abandon, clenching against that hard thick, steel rod, with his legs firm around Arthur’s strongly muscled body, crossed at his lower back. Clark spreading his thighs wider ---pushing his hips up, meeting Arthurs’s hips as he snapped against the flesh of his ass, again and again. Again, and again they fucked with mind bending, super-powered endurance.

 

 This is exactly what he wanted, to be taken _hard_. A strong body slamming against his, Arthur’s thick, hot cock inside him, throbbing and thrusting inside him pushing in, _chasing_ away the dark places inside his head, within his chest, pushing out the pain that has taken hold there.

 

Arthur roared, gripping Clark with unchecked force as he came hot and fierce inside Clark. Clark grabbed his neck and Arthur bent his long, strong body over Clark, their lips meet in a bruising kiss. His hand still around Clark’s cock, stroking it firm and fast. Clark grinding against him greedily, while they kissed until he came explosively between them.

 

ARTHUR!!!

 

 _Shit. Woah. Fuck. Jesus fucking Christ on God’s green Earth and all the Seven Fucking Seas. FUCK_. Arthur almost yelled out but he managed to stop himself and just gasp and breath first. He pulled out slowly. Good thing they were down here they would have pounded the lighthouse down into the ocean floor with what they just did.

 

Arthur felt Clark move next to him. In a whoosh of air, he was removed from the ground and he found himself being plopped gently chest deep in the water. Kal laughed at the incredulous look on his face. _Yep, super powered, godlike alien_.

 

“I hate you.” Arthur said half-heartedly. Yet had to admit it was deliciously convenient, he could barely move after that and being in the hot water right now, was the best thing ever.

 

“No, you don’t… I see you took off the piercing.”

 

Arthur had settled himself on one of the shallower part where the water was almost scalding hot, the heat didn’t burn him, it felt amazing against his skin and muscles. He leaned back against the edge, eyes half closed, relaxing, “Yeah… I decided I didn’t want to scare you too much.”

 

Clark had floated slowly up to him, crawling up between his spread legs, “You’ll never scare me, Arthur.” He murmured against his ear, while his fingers trailed along the markings on Arthur's chest and his torso. Arthur hissed, the light and firm touches were definitely _not_ relaxing. He ran his hands up and down Clark’s back, moaning softly. Sex this time were slow rounds of kissing, petting and grinding. Their release was more sweeter...gentler. 

 

“Hmm…I wish we could just stay here like this.” Kal had whispered as Arthur sucked against the soft skin of his neck.

 

Suddenly Arthur felt somewhat gob-smacked. His heart did a flip. Kal’s eyes were half closed while he leaned against him. The mist around them had become thicker. It was just so easy to think only of the here and now, how insane yet incredible this time had been in this surreal, hidden part of the world. “I wish that too,” he answered truthfully.

 

Reluctantly they got out of the water. After drying out and fixing the blanket, they drank and ate the food that Arthur brought.

 

“Do you want to go back up?”

 

“Maybe we could stay for a couple more minutes?” Clark asked, hopeful.

 

“We could do that.”

 

Arthur laid next to him on his side. He placed another blanket to spread over their naked bodies.

 

“Thanks, and I thought I was a Boy Scout.”

 

“I am King, after all. I can’t be a shitty host.”

 

Clark cracked up, a visual of Arthur saying the exact thing in front of his distinguished court flashed in his head. “Well, Your Highness, thank you very much,” They were quiet for a few moments, just watching the complex pattern of lights reflecting off the cave’s ceilings and walls.

 

“Did you really need my help, Arthur?” Clark asked without any sarcasm. The one thing Arthur has learned is that Kal…Superman never obfuscated things with him; he doesn’t see the need to.

 

Arthur gave him an honest answer. “Yes and No. I could have done it myself, it would not only have taken longer and it wouldn’t have been as much fun.”

 

“I’m happy you asked me,” Kal said simply. He leaned over and dragged a finger over his beard above his lip down to his chin, a small smile played on his lips, he met Arthur’s gaze and kissed him.

 

\---------------

 

Later, back in the lighthouse, in bed between warm sheets, Kal fell asleep next to him. Arthur still awake, listened to his quiet breathing. He sat up and flicked a stubborn curl off Kal’s forehead. Staring at his sleeping face, knowing what he could do, he looked so young, so human. Gods, he could get used to this. The words; Royal Consort flitted in his head. Such arrangements weren’t unusual in Atlantean Royalty. It was in fact, encouraged because of the pressures of running the kingdom. He never even considered it until, Kal. He wasn’t human, so technically not a surface dweller, he reasoned. There was the added benefit of Superman, on the side of the Atlantean Throne. If this world and its people hated him, he'll make sure he'll have a home with them. What the hell was he thinking. Stop Arthur, he scolded himself. He is King and his head is in the fucking clouds. Damn it.

 

 

AUTHOR"S NOTES:

Yeah, I know ~~Ben~~ … Bruce has his job cut out for him ;))

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! I wanted to greet the New Year with a bang. Yay! I wish you all a wonderful 2017!! This will be an awesome year for us DCEU fans!! Superbat! AquaSuper! Justice League!

This is the not so angsty chap to usher in the New Year;)

Thank you all for all your patience and for sticking with me as I tell this story. To everyone that took the time to read...THANK YOU!! To everyone that took the time to leave Kudos and comments and everyone leaves such thoughtful ones...THANK YOU!! This year had been a different sort of challenge for me in RL and writing this has been therapeutic and of course I love this fandom.

The volcanic cave here is inspired from that “Game of Thrones” scene where Ygritte deflowers Jon Snow (“You know nothing, Jon Snow.”) which in turn is inspired from the Grjótagjá cave in Iceland. But I also added other elements—so the cave in the fic is a little bit different. 

Jason Momoa's Aquaman tattoos is LIFE...tattoo porn!!! 

Comments and Kudos are of course welcome they provide fuel for my imagination;)

 

 


	9. Part 3 Say You Won't Let Go

CHAPTER 9

 

 

 

THEY HAD LAIN between the warm sheets, with the scent and sound of the ocean outside, “We should do this again,” whispered Arthur.

“You mean rescuing whales?” Clark answered, consciousness drifting between wakefulness and sleep.

Arthur chuckled then slid a strong arm over his waist as he pressed warm lips between his shoulders, “You know what I mean.”

 “Hmmm… maybe, ask me tomorrow.” He teased as he curled closer into the curve of Arthur’s embrace.

After a couple of minutes, "Arthur? " Clark’s drowsy voice asked.

 “Yes, Kal.”

“Is there really a Lochness monster?”

“You never tried to look?” His warm chuckle rumbled through his chest.

“I tried once… I’m sure I saw something… she’s sneaky...”

Arthur chuckled softly, “She? Alright…Kal, just go to sleep. I’ll tell you tomorrow”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“…’Night.”

“Good night.”

His body sated, his mind lulled by the crashing waves against the boulders below the lighthouse Clark easily fell asleep.

It always starts the same way whenever he had _that dream._ Zod. The fire red beams from his eyes burning everything around them. The vortex of destruction, the loud whine of steel bending, the roar of falling concrete, steel, wood. Screams everywhere. Sudden silence. Darkness. In the haze, he finds himself in the middle of a corn field in Kansas. But it wasn’t corn that surrounded him, it was skulls, human bones piled high up to his knees—

He takes a step to launch himself into the air (away from the rising pile of gray, cold, bones) but instead of going up, he is pulled deep into the skull covered earth, bones crush sickeningly around him, he realizes they were his bones too—breaking, crunching, the ground opens, giant jaws…burying him—the weight of bones and earth, enveloping him in thickening darkness…

And _cold_.

 _Falling into the dark, into cold._ On a cold floor, pinned down by a force unseen. The air is hot and prickly. It hurts to breathe… couldn’t move…too hot…too cold. Boiled alive in slow heat then sucked into a vortex of cold, water and wind. Spinning down back to a cold, cold floor; the chill eating at his bones. He can see Bruce’s thick combat boots. Bruce is angry. The boots heavy on his chest, gets heavier and heavier…pushing…not stopping…until his chest breaks open…the black, heavy boots … gray… gray faces…old faces…young faces…burning… burning fabric, lumber, cement, concrete, skin, blood…

_...They’re all dead now… (Why aren’t you dead?)_

_Bruce?_

_Kal, Kal!_ Another voice far away.

He couldn’t think who would call him… _Kal?_

_Arthur… What was he doing here? In the cave…. Arthur… leave._

_Can’t breathe. Kryptonite. That's what **he** calls it. He pushes himself, twists and struggles… get out of this …. Superman… HELP US…heat builds behind his eyes. Thuds inside his head. Thud. Thud. Maybe if he could get his heat vision to work. But the Batman was there in the dark…Zod?.…angry…holding … a spear … and he was looking down on him… _ _I have no people… YOU have no people._

Gods! Kal—El! Please, Wake up!

It wasn’t the Batman, it wasn’t Zod. Arthur. He could see his face, shift in and out of focus. Escape. Escape that dreamy terror of what he sees… the thudding inside his head (are voices, cries, roar of concrete and steel coalescing into one) and the excruciating heat and pain between his eyes. Let it out. Let go. _No_.

Hold it back. TOO LATE. _You’re going to burn everything Clark!_ The voice inside his head accused.

A waterfall came over him, taming the maddening heat— it drove away the thundering darkness...the heat behind his eyes dissipated … everything shifting back to focus …The bed, became a bed again and Arthur was Arthur, his worried face over him, a solid reality.

“Kal!”

Arthur had placed a hand over his chest. The trident on his other hand, glowed steadily with yellow light.

“Are you ok? My eyes… did I hurt you?” Clark sat bolt upright eyes wild with concern as he looked over Arthur. The moment before reality asserted itself he was waking up in the apartment again looking at Lois’ worried face, fire on the wall behind her. Cold terror had ripped inside him.

“No, I'm ok. Kal, nothing happened. You had a nightmare. It was bad. I couldn’t wake you. You were as hot as a volcano’s heart.”

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. My powers… Sorry.” He took a deep breath, feeling the air filling inside his chest. Squeezed his eyes tight still afraid that the destructive fire will break out— uncontrolled. Dug the heal of his right hand on his forehead covered with a sheen of cold sweat.

Arthur regarded him carefully, a soothing hand on his back. “Like I said nothing happened but I couldn’t wake you, and you were burning up. The Trident has the power to calm storms and still the waves, I used that on you.”

Arthur got up and poured him a large glass of water.

“Thanks.” Clark said after he drank the entire thing.

He sat down next to him on the bed, “Do you want to talk about it?”

_And say what? I have these nightmares…I’m sorry for ruining things… You’re great, but..._ “Not really, I’m sorry.”

 

In the same way, he will never tell Lois, his Mom– most of all. He had stood, on the highest peak of K2 to have one of his imagined conversations with his father. Jonathan usually showed up but then every now and then Jor El would make an appearance with that same severe look from the hologram (the only way he could ever picture him for he never saw him smile) and he had talked about Metropolis, the ship, the explosion in the park, and how he’s really trying to do right by them even if he feels he’s making things worse and even then, _even then_ with his dead fathers he can’t tell them the other thing that happened. Arthur can never know.

 

“Fine, then.” Arthur said, paused and ever so quietly added, “Kal, this time has been amazing, you are amazing and believe it or not, at the very least I do hope we can be friends.”

“Thank you for saying that,” Clark said and he looked into those complicated colored eyes and knew that Arthur meant it.

 Clark turned his head, Arthur’s scrutiny becoming too much at this point and focused on the tiny patterns of the aged wood right above his big toe. Arthur could feel the weight of whatever melancholy the nightmare brought, it hurt to look at him, it even hurt more when he said, “But I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“Whenever you’re ready.” Arthur assured him. He didn’t tell him he was yelling out something during his sleep, a name. Bruce.

 

* * *

 

 

NEWS REPORT:

–––The FBI has announced it has concluded based on evidence uncovered from his house that Mr. Wallace O’Keefe was responsible for the explosion in Heroes’ Park.

     Mr. O’Keefe hid the bombs in his wheelchair. He was found to be a member of the anti- Superman Pro human group– People for Humanity. A manifesto was found among his possessions, written by Corben and signed by the inner circle of the group which included O’Keefe.

 

 

Bruce walked into the cave, more morose than usual even after a productive night of shutting down a Harley and Joker crime spree which usually meant copious amounts of property damage. Alfred had expected this, as he casually scrolled through his tablet with one hand while holding a cup of tea with the other.

“Hello, Sir, you are looking quite cheery today as usual.  So, keyword…Superman and lo and behold! As you already know news feeds tracked Superman by the Baffin coast 12 hours ago. Meanwhile, in social media hashtag SupesSlurpsBalls is trending, the Nenet nation of Siberia has proudly proclaimed him as a son of their nation not only for helping deliver much needed supplies but also for the unheard-of feat of consuming an entire bowl of ceremonial soup made from fermented testicles—”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce winced, when he felt like this (and when did he ever not– broody silence was his default) Alfred of course knew when he was extra broody and couldn’t care less although these days he seemed to have develop another talent and that is just finding reasons to not let him wallow in his extra broody mood in peace. So now of course it did not matter that Alfred knew he was perfectly capable of speed-reading everything else that he didn’t know already.

“–Instagram selfies with Superman in the background apparently _talking_ to people. Would you imagine that?” Alfred was relentless.

 “Yes, Alfred.” He muttered under his breath while trying to stave the increased stinging sensation that Alfred’s words caused.

“Twitter, Instagram…Facebook… God forbid if these all broke down, how would you find anyone down the street.”

 

He noticed one of the pictures captured the large figure of Arthur Curry. Bruce wondered if he was some meta human hybrid that would sprout fins, probably talk to fishes too. He wouldn’t be surprised if he smelled like one.

The screen on his left scrolled through possible sightings of Superman during the past 24 hours. Next, he reviewed data from several Wayne weather drones he had secretly configured to pick up any supersonic disturbances or faster. It was difficult, Clark moved too fast with varying patterns for any instrument to lock onto, but his own servers were faster even than the military’s. Bruce had figured out Clark’s flight speeds and patterns. He was clearly aware that it made Clark seem like some sort of migratory bird. It was somehow appropriate since he had utilized the same principle to formulate the basic algorithm. As far as he knew nobody ever realized that the basic systems of a weather drone with a few upgrades would be perfect in tracking Clark. It was not only elegant in its simplicity, it hid in plain sight inside his weather drones, its layered encryptions further secured his data. From his data, it showed that Clark wasn’t back in Metropolis yet.

“People are tweeting, instagramming selfies with Superman in the background talking to people.” Alfred’s wry yet elegant voice continued. “They were clearly taken surreptitiously in a what looked like a gathering to thank him for clearing the ice along their waterways.”

“Tweeting. Huh.” Bruce had looked through the pictures, in all of them Clark’s image was blurry. Bruce figured it was some low-level device interference coming from the Kryptonian.

“Yes, Sir. Of course, tweeting.”

The reality of Clark’s heavy absence weighed on him no matter what he did to rationalize that it was the best thing for the two of them. Love just fucks everything up, his instincts had dulled when it came to Clark even if he had lived most of his life honing those instincts, yet somehow it all failed him, suspicions casted somewhere else and how slowly, the idea of destroying Superman became synonymous with protecting Clark– protecting Clark from the threat of the godlike aliens and other bad things(because what then would be the point of Batman.. Batman who had failed with Jason)  Love or whatever you called it had become this perfect storm for destroying whatever world he had carefully constructed walled in by the unscalable, solid walls of accumulated pain and hurt. He suspected Clark probably did the same. But those carefully put up walls came down with disastrous results when he learned that when the object of his love and hate (for what else would you call the murderous rage) were one and the same and nothing could prepare him for that, that pain like a razor, with its blade pressed down into his barely healed raw wounds repeatedly before it carved him into little pieces. And the anger that has always been there barely controlled, it burned and raged so much that shamefully enough it felt easier to just let it consume him. They were the worst things for each other yet Bruce knew he had past the point where he could exist without him.

 

_It was one of those random conversations, that just seemed to start out of nowhere. They were eating dinner at the penthouse. The flat screen TV replaying earlier events of Superman saving people in a tornado in Oklahoma._

_Bruce didn’t know what possessed him at that time, but somehow the words just came out of his mouth, “Too bad Superman wasn’t around then.”_

_He remembered Clark not lifting his head, his fork paused in the midst of twisting noodles. “During… what?” Later he would appreciate how much control it took Clark to not launch that fork at him, a deadly projectile with a mere flick of his fingers._

_“That tornado… with your dad. If he was around then things could've different."_

_Clark cleared his throat then deliberately, almost, too carefully laid the fork against the plate._

_“Even if he was around, Superman can’t do everything, Bruce. Maybe he couldn’t…” He muttered under his breath._

_“Exactly, Clark. Superman can't do everything! Yet here he is generating enough force to stop an F5. What happens in the next one, what about the one after that. and while he was stopping this tornado, a cargo plane crashed near Dallas killing 16 people. That cargo plane could have easily crashed over a busy interstate.”_

 

_"What are you saying?"_

 

_"How do you save one over the other. How do you choose?"_

_He saw Clark let out a breath, then stand abruptly, "Thanks for dinner. Sorry I have to go...."_

 

_"Don't leave. Look if this is about your Dad, I'm sorry I didn't mean it that way."_

_“In what way, Bruce. Wait…I’m sorry if I expected more from you, since your parents **died** in front of you.”_

Thinking back, he realized Clark was right there when his Father died and for some reason he couldn't save him. Back then he had wondered what was the big deal and could only think he was being callous with the way he talked about Clark’s dad. It was their first big fight.  He remembered just wanting Clark back, well because he _missed_ him, and it has been a long time since he missed someone that way. It took two days of groveling to get Clark to even answer his texts and phone calls. Being with Clark made him feel _good_ , so much so, unknowingly, his entire being allowed it after being bereft for so long and what Clark represented he willingly and so _happily_ accepted, by some sort of strange, almost magical osmosis.

Happiness, was this concept, simple enough to articulate: What makes you happy? People asked each other… a cup of the perfect coffee… a quiet Sunday morning… ending Superman. Yes, simple enough to articulate ( _not_ raping, _not_ almost murdering your boyfriend who was also Superman would have made Clark happy) but always in Bruce’s head happiness was also this weighted, extremely complex thing hidden in a tangle of deep neuroses muscling into the edges of his all too fragile hold on a reality that had changed so drastically in the last two years.

Now he was seething in some insane jealous rage as he once again stared at Clark. Bruce was convinced that in the realm of his relationships he had hit his lowest of low.

Then there’s Lex. Lex who has been too quiet lately, aside from the official apology he issued days following the drone incident it had been business as usual for LexCorp. Sometimes there was quiet then there was _too_ quiet. Bruce had gone through reams of data and had done some good old fashioned leg work. Everything, was clean, _too_ clean, scrubbed down clean. It was suspicious as a fresh coat of paint on a wall of a rundown apartment. On his latest public appearances, he seemed strangely more subdued, every now and his eyes would dart around, head tilted to one side very much like old Lex but more often it seemed vacant, yet there were times there was something else. Was it drugs? He knew that wasn’t a very Lex thing to do— he once told Bruce that drugs were for the weak willed, that he was far too superior for anything like that, that he wouldn’t allow any chemicals to alter the true workings of his unique mind. What the fucking hell was going on.

Bruce popped the cap of the pill bottle he retrieved from his shirt pocket, and quickly popped two Xanax pills into his mouth and chased it down with a single swallow of water.

He felt Alfred’s disapproving stare burn through his back, he sighed deeply, feeling the burden of Alfred’s worry followed by inexorable guilt. “At least, I’m drinking it with water, Alfred, water not alcohol.” 

“If you say so, Sir.”

 

 

_Daily Planet that day...._

  

“Alright boys and girls we are done here! And for the first time—”

Clark walked in the conference room and stood at the back.

Perry White scowled. “I was about to say, for the first time I wasn’t this close to a heart attack,” Perry did an exaggerated expansive gesture with his hand, “And here comes Clark Kent, honoring us with his presence on this fine day.”

Some of the staff laughed as they piled out of the conference room. Clark moved closer to Lois.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

Perry’s voice boomed across the room, “Lois, Clark don’t leave yet.” They drifted closer to his desk. 

" I want to tell you, I’m sorry about what happened. The Heroes’ Park bombing. Lane, I know you’ve been after Swanwick.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Lois, you know I couldn’t print Luthor’s connections to the fire and the bombing without more proof. The paper would have been sued, plus there was a subpoena.”

“Perry, you could have printed it, if you wanted to. Everyone just wanted this shut down. You gave in, people died—”

“Don’t lecture me. I was fighting subpoenas, judges even before you were in kindergarten Lois. If you both come up with anything else. Then we’ll see.”

Silence.

“I thought so.”

“Lo, let’s go outside. Take a walk…” Clark said gently.

Lois was still bristling when they went out to the street, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“And say what? Perry has long made up his mind. If you pushed him he’ll put us on administrative leave, a lot of good it will do.”

 “Clark, Perry will never put me on leave.”

“Exactly, I was mostly afraid for myself.” He teased her.

Lois gave him an incredulous look, then, “You found something.”

Clark had half expected this. This was Lois after all. But even though he had prepared for it, and told himself he was just protecting her, it did not make lying to her any easier.

“I did not find anything new.” _Well that was true, the facts have been there all along. They just needed to see it a different way. They were all looking at Luthor. Then there was Lena Grahame. Luthor’s Mom who died when he was five. The offshore holdings that hid more properties._ “I’m just wondering if it’s all worth it. Luthor is rich and dangerous. The more we stir up things the more people will get hurt.” _You will get hurt_. _Better for Luthor to just concentrate on destroying me and not drag everyone else with it._     

Lois’ mood changed from irritable to intensely curious, “Ok, out with it. There’s something else, going on with you.”

“You’re reaching. But I’ll still give you this.” Clark handed her a small Tupperware container.

Lois’s eyes lit up, “Ohh! Martha’s?”

“Yup, just got it this morning.”

“Thank you! How is she?”

“She’s great, wondering when are you going to come visit her again.”

“She just wants to feed me.”

“Of course. You know how she loves having you around.”

“I know. I’ll call her. So, tell me… Don’t give me that innocent look, trying to distract me with yummy, fattening stuff… but really who needs to diet…” She put the muffins inside her messenger bag her expression serious once again, “Clark, this is our job. Even if didn’t involve _you_. I will still be doing the same thing. You can’t blame yourself for Luthor’s actions—”

He stopped walking and picked up her right hand and kissed it. Lois felt warmth rush through her, she couldn’t help but smile, Clark did that to her, “What was that for?”

“For being my friend, for being you—”

“Clark Joseph Kent, if you tell me I’m like a sister to you. I swear to God I will murder you. And you’re doing _that_ again.”

“Really? I was going for that …only child and all.” He gave that mischievous little smile of his, deliberately ignoring everything else that Lois said.

Lois could’ve smacked him, but she knew she’ll probably injure herself, instead she huffed a breath, “Well, you have your uses.”

 

They walked for a couple of minutes in silence.

Lois paused and thought for a moment, her mood had ebbed– a warm fondness in her eyes as she focused on Clark. “So, have you talked to Bruce at all?”

“No…but I met somebody.” He wanted to share this with her but somehow sharing this with her now made him feel guilty, using his personal life to distract Lois.

 _Clark_. And that inescapable feeling came part worry, part jealousy and part other things. “And…” she prodded.

“I like him…”

“That’s good. But isn’t it too soon...”

“He’s different.” _Bruce was different also._ “I thought that, but he makes me feel good, you know, uncomplicated.” He stopped suddenly, mortified, “Lo, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that you didn’t make me feel good. Oh, God! You know–”

“Stop.” She shook her head vehemently. “You don’t have to apologize. I know. You need this right now. And I hope he would be that person for you. And I hope this isn’t just you trying to talk yourself out of whatever it is you truly want. Maybe that’s something you need to figure out first.” Lois had pointed out with that acumen of hers when it came to him. The Importance of Being Clark Kent, she had called it. She had joked, that she should be specially awarded for being the only one who saw all parts of him son, reporter, friend, lover, alien. She joked, yet below the easy smiles and banter she knew he still carried that guilt inside him– that guilt about a night a long time ago when the incident in the apartment happened.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Crystal.”

“So, enough of that. Anything you want to tell me?”

“Nothing, can we just take a nice normal walk.”

Clark gave her a suspicious side glance, “Normal? What is it? C’mon Lo. Spill.”

She squeezed his arm and nudged his shoulder with her cheek, ducking her head so he wouldn't see her eyes, “Nothing to spill except I miss this. This is nice.”

“I miss this too.” He replied guardedly then stopped and watched her with that questioning look on his face unconvinced by her distraction.

She decided not to say anything. She knows once she hints anything about Lex, he’d know. They were both hiding secrets from each other. Clark was already concerned. And she could never lie to him. She could try, but Clark would know instantly she was up to something. Even if they just talked about it Clark will decide it’s too dangerous and check things out by himself. And they’ll have the same argument once again. She didn’t want to do that, not right now.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at her phone and frowned, “Sorry, I have to go uptown.”

“Ok.”

She stuck out her arm in the air and in a minute an empty cab came slowly toward them. Clark leaned down to open the door for her. She gave him a peck on the cheek before going in.

“Text me if anything exciting happens.”

“Sure. Take care.”

Clark watched the cab as it wound its way around illegally double parked cars before it rounded the corner to go uptown.

 

 

St. Michael’s Cathedral, located at the heart of Metropolis, was renowned for its massive edifice and Gothic Style, save for the damage in its gardens, the Cathedral (miraculously, according to its devout denizens) survived mostly unscathed during the Kryptonian invasion. Not only is it a prominent landmark of the city but is also serves as the seat of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Metropolis.

A tall, striking young woman stood across the street and tucked her long honey blond wavy hair behind her large dark sunglasses. Most did not pay her any mind it was Metropolis after all; where you can get used to looking at beautiful things and _people_ – a city full of non-working actors, models serving you calamari or your venti, extra hot, skim, extra shot, extra whip sugar free caramel macchiato at your street corner Starbucks. She took a quick picture of the famed Cathedral’s façade with her phone before the light changed at the crosswalk. With long easy sneaker clad strides, she followed the throng of tourists and church goers alike as they made their way to the Cathedral. Inside she sat close to the confessional booths and glanced at her wristwatch. Punctuality was something that had been drilled into her even as a child, it served her well throughout life especially with her present job. Lex Luthor— her boss hated tardiness.

“Hi honey. I hope you didn’t wait long.” A female voice greeted her on her right side.

She put on a brilliant smile, all the while very aware of how people moved around her and rose from her seat to hug the other woman.

“I didn’t mind. I did some sight-seeing,” she cooed as she leaned into the hug, while slipping a small folded manila envelope into the outer pocket of the other woman’s laptop bag. They locked arms walking shoulder to shoulder, playing as girlfriends going out and about in the city.

Later, inside her apartment, Lois Lane emptied the contents of the envelope. Out spilled a square black device, the same size as an Iphone5 and small piece of paper with printed directions to a property in the outskirts of the city. When Mercy Graves contacted her a week earlier, she was very wary of what she wanted. She was still wary, never believing that Lex’s closest confidant would go out of her way to essentially help her.Today while they nibbled on overpriced French pastries and sipped cappuccinos while ensconced in a secluded restaurant booth, Lois still had her doubts.

“I don’t ask you to trust me Ms. Lane. That is entirely up to you. You could see for yourself what is Lex is up to. But it goes without saying I’m putting myself in great danger, doing this.”

“Then why don’t you get out. Save yourself. Leave him. Don’t go back to him. It’s not yet too late for you.” She paused because she wanted this last statement to truly sink in. “I can help.”

Mercy Graves just nodded her own way of acknowledging she was aware of the gesture that Lois was extending. Cool, unwavering. She took a slow sip of her cappuccino, “I go where Lex goes, Ms. Lane. And if it’s too late for him, then it is too late for me too. Perhaps, before it all ends, I could do this one thing for the world.”

 

* * *

 

 

“How do you feel about dinner?” Arthur had asked Clark right before he had to fly home

Kal had smiled. The same smile he gave to that little girl who tugged at his cape during the banquet yesterday. “When?”

He didn’t want to seem eager. “Tonight?” _There goes that plan_.

That smile again. “Sure.”

“How does the coast of Maine sound?”

They eventually decided to meet at this restaurant in Harpswell. “I know the people. Great food. Nobody will bother us,” Arthur had said.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was interesting trying to figure how to dress for his date with Arthur. He needed to decide if he should go as Clark or Superman. Arthur did not hide behind a secret identity; he told him that. And he had told Clark that although the surface world was for the better part unaware that Atlantis was real, there were surface dwellers (as Arthur called them) who knew who Arthur Curry was. At this point, Clark decided it was less complicated for people whether they were Atlanteans or not for Superman to be seen with the Atlantean King.  Yet the Kryptonian suit might be too much for dinner or possibly a night around town. He made a quick decision as to what to wear.

Clark had grabbed the first tie on his neatly arranged tie drawer, belatedly he realized it was Bruce’s tie made of some expensive embroidered silk with geometric patterns that was sold by this menswear house in London that made only bespoke suits and ties. Fine silk that made tying knots easy and in the end impeccable looking.

_Clark looked at himself in the mirror as he put on a plain, dark, blue tie. His hands carefully making a knot, when he glanced up at the mirror, Bruce was there standing next to him._

_“Can I?”_

_“Ok”_

_To his surprise, Bruce took the tie from his hand, put it aside then removed his own and carefully arranged it on Clark’s neck, “As much as you look great in everything…”_

_Clark sighed, “So where are we going?_

_“It’s a surprise. The least I could do for being an ass.”_

_“It’s a great ass, Bruce. But yeah, you were a fucking asshole.”_

_“Clark…please.”_

_“It’s just sometimes… I feel like I don’t even know you.” Guilt had churned inside Clark as soon as he said this._

_“Clark, I’ll say it again. I’m sorry for bringing all that stuff up about your dad. Give me a_ _chance_.”

_“You’re here, aren’t you.”_

_Bruce finished fixing the tie, he leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Clark’s lips, Clark let him. He pressed a hand on Clark’s chest, “There, keep it. It looks great on you. You know, I should have Alfred send you a couple of things.”_

_“Umm…thank you, but no, please, I’m good.”_

_Bruce humored him by promising him he wouldn’t. They got into his car and it became obvious they were heading to a private airport. Clark saw the Gulfstream jet from afar._

_“I guess staying locally isn’t enough.” Clark had observed wryly._

_“This is me apologizing.”_

 

It was all very unexpected and very intoxicating, the grand gesture of Bruce apologizing. A dreamy, wonderful, whirlwind weekend in his villa at Napa Valley overlooking the picture- perfect, Monet-esque, Wayne vineyard. The sweet scent of blooming grape clusters wafting around him– resembling gentle hints of apple and barely ripe honey dew melons. The universe seemed to have conspired to give them that halcyon weekend, Superman wasn’t needed anywhere and Bruce was brilliant, relaxed, smiling easily, attentive, sensitive (on a regular basis the first one always–the last four not so much but then he had loved that about Bruce – the collection of proclivities and idiosyncrasies that combined to make him dangerous yet irresistible) When they came back to Metropolis, it was almost harsh, because they had to come back to being _them_. He had this strange almost out of body experience, that somehow, he had split into two. There was a Clark that was happy, contented, holding hands with Bruce, Bruce who at that moment had given him a look (the one that made Clark just want to jump him and make out) Then there was the other him the one that fought the rising sourness from his gut that came when he tried to figure out exactly how it happened, forgiving Bruce; he knew it was definitely, _before_ the big gesture; _why_ did he forgive him and more importantly _how_ easily he forgave him.

He looked at himself, exhaled heavily then removed the tie.

The restaurant was high along the coast on a rocky hill far enough from the usual touristy traffic. Quiet with that understated, low key elegance. A place that never advertised but people knew it was there because it was that good. He had thought of eating somewhere more casual but the food here the was best along this coast. It was owned by a family that had become good friends after he saved them when their stalled boat was caught in a fierce Nor’easter off Nova Scotia ten years ago.

Arthur nursed a large mug of Atlantean beer, while he leaned casually against the bar’s flawlessly polished dark wood. Though relaxed he still gave off a very intimidating, don’t-give-a-fuck vibe with his biker meets fashion cowboy style, complete with a black leather vest and biker boots, the look somehow tied together with an outback hat, that would’ve been laughable on anyone else but somehow not on him, not that anyone would dare. The Atlantean King knew they won’t be bothered here and could just take their time to enjoy each other’s company. He had somewhat of a loose itinerary planned, part of which he was planning to surprise Clark with another trip to Atlantis. Teelah, one of his trusted Atlantean Royal Guard insisted on coming with him when she caught wind he was dining here with Superman. The statuesque, stoic, guard had admitted she had wanted to see him again since his visit to Atlantis. “I fully support Your Majesty’s efforts to establish powerful allies and this ally is extremely pleasing to gaze upon.” Arthur almost smiled before he gave her permission. He threw another impatient glance at the door, Clark was late.

The maître d must’ve noticed his irritation, he came up quietly, “Sir, may I be of service.” he asked in a low voice, taking care that the other patrons won’t hear him.

Arthur took a breath before answering, “I’m fine, thank you.”

The Atlantean King was looking down on his phone when his sensitive senses felt a frisson of excitement sweep through the place. He looked up just in time to see Kal, walking towards him led by the maître d. People noticed him because it was hard _not_ to notice him. They all wore that expression when they see a famous face, when they wonder if it’s really that person and at the same time there was just this unabashed admiration that comes when you come upon a more superior human specimen. Though he did not wear the suit he still looked every inch a Superman, he traded his Kryptonian garb with a midnight blue, long sleeved shirt neatly folded at the elbows and tucked into dark jeans that fitted him so well it accented his _ass_ ets. His hair was slicked back but not as severely styled when he was Superman, allowing some of his curls to escape.

Clark looked across the room and caught his gaze and smiled.

Arthur’s heart stuttered, yet he tried to will a careful and calm expression on his face. He knew he failed for he broke into a silly smile and yes, Kal looking incredibly hot was not helping his dinner plans. Dinner was becoming less of a priority at this point. But still he knew he had to be gentleman.

Teelah stood at attention next to him, thoroughly assessing Superman. Several eyes tracked Clark. The other staff in the restaurant that knew Arthur surreptitiously glanced at the person the King was dining with.

Clark felt their gaze on him. It brought him back to the time he first revealed himself to the world while he hovered above that military base facing a battalion of soldiers and weapons. He had spent a lifetime hiding who he was, what he could do, to be out in the open like that, with the symbol of his dead people on his chest, terrified him. But then he had learned to be that person in that suit with that symbol. He imagined when he wore the suit it was probably how soldiers felt when they put on their gear right before a mission. The Superman suit was his armor. Although it carried with it innumerable expectations and hope– it shielded him. Behind it he could hide his uncertainty, doubt, and in some respects how small he still felt. But now, he wasn’t Superman yet he wasn’t quite Clark either. He could picture his Mom with that gentle laugh of hers, “Clark, just be yourself,” she would say. But then softly the answer would come from deep inside him, “Which _self_ , Mom?” A part of him thought of the absurdity of it all, he chided himself for having an existential crisis just because he had to figure out what to wear on a date.

“Nice place.” He greeted Arthur. He extended a hand, but Arthur pulled him into a corner behind a strategically placed wide post at the edge of the bar and kissed him. Teelah had discreetly given them space and turned her gaze somewhere else.

“You didn’t get lost, did you?” Arthur asked, equal parts teasing and curious, after they slowly pulled away from each other.

“No, I know I’m late. Sorry.”

Arthur handed him a mug of what he was drinking, “It's ok.”

“There was a big fire in Mexico.” Clark murmured.

“Oh, how was it?”

“Not good, people died. It was in a plastic factory. There was an explosion caused by electric short in a room with improperly stored chemicals.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” Clark looked down on his beer, not drinking, turning the mug in little half turns.

“Kal, if there’s somewhere you need to be, its ok.”

He looked up with a guilty expression, “I’m sorry.” Then he took a sip,

"It’s fine.” Arthur looked thoughtful for a minute. “You really do care for them.”

“Them? You mean people, right?”

“I didn’t mean it for it to sound that way.” He paused to consider his words. “Half of me is human, after all.” He was sorry, now not sure if he was apologizing for the comment or being half human. Kal’s love for _all_ living things in his adopted home was admirable compared to his growing cynical regard for the dominant species on Earth. Between the wars, pollution and the indiscriminate rape of the planet’s natural resources it was difficult to defend humans from the Atlanteans who occasionally would push to declare war and just flood the entire world to rid the Earth of the human pestilence as they called it. It was a very necessary part of his job as King for he wasn’t just any King after all- he was their _half human_ King.

The maître d approached them, “Excuse me, Sir. Your table is ready.”

They stopped talking while they quickly followed the maître d to a dining alcove, big enough to accommodate six people, he waited till they settled into their seats, before he handed them the menus.

Arthur handed them back. “Tell Markus to surprise us, I'll leave it to his very capable hands.”

“It is indeed a privilege, your Highness. I hope we do not disappoint.”

“You never do.”

He turned to Clark. “Sir may I just say it is a great honor to have you as our guest.”

 “The pleasure is all my mine, Thank You.”

Arthur leaned closer, his breath teasing Clark’s ear, “I’m really, really having second thoughts about dinner.” He pressed his thighs against Clark’s for emphasis.

Clark gave a small, almost shy smile. “First time I’ve tried this. Not Clark but not Superman… just…”

“Kal.”

“Yeah, just Kal.”

“I’m glad he came along.”

“Can I honestly tell you how weird it is to refer to myself in the third person.”

They drew apart as soon as they saw the wait staff coming. They brought in an impressive array of appetizers. A tastefully arranged sampling of lobster bites, octopus tostada, geoduck ceviche, hake rillettes and smoked Maine mussels.

When the wait staff left, Clark let out a low, appreciative whistle, “And here I was thinking I was just gonna go with a salad.”

“You know, eating vegetables is an insult to Atlantean hospitality. You could if you want to, but it’ll be a waste, Markus– the chef is a master when it comes to seafood.”

Clark let out a laugh before he took a portion of the octopus, tasting it. “This is amazing… you know I thought about being a vegetarian, I mean I don’t even really need to eat. But isn’t eating seafood for you, kinda like… I don’t know like eating your subjects…”

“Not really, think about it this way, you eat meat from cows, pigs…”

“Got it.”

They ate quietly for a while passing the different dishes between them. The conversation going back and forth about the food and the festival that Arthur wanted Clark to see.

“The best part is that along this coast, you can get to see Zee and and her family or Lochness monster as they are commonly known it seems., that would be her Mom... but don't tell them that ... she misses you by the way and we can portal to Australia to Poseidon’s Bowl.”

“I actually said that out loud? And did you say portal?" Clark’s curiosity piqued.

“We are let’s say quite advanced, as you have seen, we have sea beasts like Zee at the same we have our sea crafts more efficient and faster than what they have here. Then we have our portal, we can’t just travel through water all the time.” Arthur winked at him.

“I guess you’re not telling me anything else about it?” Clark was getting excited. It was Arthur’s people, different yet they lived here too just like him.

“Part of my surprise. And I'm told its quite an experience for newcomers even for somebody like you."

A very discreet, “Excuse me, Sirs. Is everything fine?”

“Yes, thank you. John.”

“Very good, Sir. Your main course will be arriving soon.”

Arthur was just about to mention more plans for later when he saw Clark suddenly stiffen, looking out, disbelief in his eyes.

“What is it, Kal?”

Clark shook his head then sighed, “Would you look at that.”

Arthur saw what Clark was looking at. They both watched Bruce Wayne make his way through the tables eliciting more stares.

The maître d saw him and made a beeline to head him off before he could get to them, yet somehow an already inebriated Bruce (Clark wondered how he managed to achieve that) was still faster. Clark stood up to meet him before he got to their table.

“Bruce.”

Clark shot him a warning look. Bruce half expected him to just flick him through the wall and across the ocean, but he wasn't surprised either that Clark was being civil. Only Clark could do that,  be civil to someone like him. And Clark looked good, seeing him like this was like being punched in the gut by Killer Croc.

A smile curved over Arthur’s mouth. Bruce was Bruce Wayne. Somehow, he knew this as soon as Kal yelled it out during his nightmare. Whatever he thought about their relationship he decided to push it out of his head, that was Kal’s business. The day then the night they had was amazing, the sex phenomenal, he wanted more, but no one asked for anything nor promised anything. But seeing Bruce Wayne right here, now, irritated his nerves and he didn’t want anything more than to choke that smug smile out of his face.

The maître d finally glided up to them unobtrusively, “I’m sorry, excuse me, Mr. Wayne, Sir your table is over here.” He attempted to steer Bruce away from the alcove, but of course Bruce didn’t budge.

“Excuse me, I’ve just been invited to join them.” Bruce said in the same manner he would if he was in the middle of his boardroom.

Teelah had appeared, her eyes flicked over Bruce, like he was something she stepped on, something foul and glutinous, “Sir?”

Arthur gave Bruce a long look before speaking. “Teelah, John it’s fine. Mr. Wayne can join us, for now.”

“Arthur, I’ll take him home.” Clark said, resigned. He would kick himself if he could, aside from being there for Arthur, he was internally monitoring several things around the world. He scolded himself for not being careful enough, for getting too distracted. 

“No, let’s all sit down and have dinner.” Arthur’s cool, placating voice carried over to where they were standing.

“Arthur–”

“Everyone, just relax. Mr. Wayne will sit down.” Arthur said. Meanwhile, Clark was baffled, he could tell that for some reason or another Arthur found the whole thing amusing.

Smirking, Bruce sat himself on the seat between them, then smoothly poured wine into Clark’s wineglass, before taking a slow drink. Arthur didn't take his eyes off him.

Teelah walked over back to her post, throwing glances every now and then. The wait staff, efficient as always seem to magically appear and use the detente to clear dishes, pour drinks and arrange the chef's selections on their table in quick minutes. Clark could see the maitre d strategically seating the newly arrived patrons away from the private alcove. 

“Bruce, you’re drunk,” Clark said ineffectually at the same time wondering why things like this happened to him.

For a moment Bruce felt _bad_ , yet he didn't stop himself.  “Don’t worry I wasn’t flying.” He gave Clark a wolfish smirk, “ _You,_  are a difficult person to find these days.”

“Bruce, what are you doing here?” Clark pushed in that quiet voice of his.

“I had some hankering for some surf and turf.”

“Really, and you just happened to be here. Four hundred miles away.”

“I have a chopper. Well, and a jet too. It wasn’t easy getting here. If you must know that.”

Arthur exhaled quietly, “Bruce, if you’re going to be like this. Get out.” His tone wasn't anywhere threatening, more like a host, bored at the antics of an annoying guest. He took a forkful of lobster from his dish and gave a thumbs up to the maitre d.  

“Hey!” He said a little bit too loudly. “That's, Mr. Wayne to you, _Arthur_.”

The Atlantean King, unperturbed, leisurely chewed his food before he answered, “Then you must know, Wayne, it’s Your Royal Highness. For some people being filthy rich and having manners are not mutually inclusive. Kal, Markus has surpassed himself everything is just delicious."

"Maine lobsters are so good as it is and your chef just  brought it to a whole new level. I should bring my Mom here."

"You should, let me know-"

Bruce refilled his empty wine glass all too quickly, then cleared his throat loudly once again before he took another generous drink. “This is great! Nothing like having stuff from the royal wine cellar. You must have really expensive taste now.” The thinly veiled insinuation hung thick and ugly in the air. Even in his inebriated state Bruce felt everything had stilled around him for a precious few seconds before time started again.

Clark stood up abruptly, “I’m leaving.” Red flashed in his eyes and stayed there.

“Stay.” They both growled at the same time.

Arthur placed a hand on Clark’s hip, “Kal, I’m sorry, please sit down. Wayne, leave.”

Something nasty and angry surged inside Bruce when he saw that hand on Clark. Bruce managed to stand up and carefully button his suit. “I hear you talk to fish,” he said carelessly.

“Jesus, Bruce!” Two things warred within Clark, _he_ could stop this now, _Arthur_ could stop it now, but they were all obstinate creatures. The night was already ruined and it had escalated into this petty thing– into this circus that Bruce had instigated. Clark hated it, but throwing Bruce out would somehow prove Bruce right in that Machiavellian logic of his. At this point, childish it may be– Clark did not want to give him that satisfaction.

“Well, not all of us can speak– _rodent_.” Arthur said deliberately, eyes not leaving Bruce, “I know, bats are not flying rodents although they should be, they act the same way, annoying things.”

A look flicked across Bruce Wayne’s face. Clark could hear his heart beat speed up then settle again to its usual even rhythm. Arthur leaned forward and took another drink of beer before he resumed, an amused glint in his eyes, Bruce's carefully guarded surprise did not escape him.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Wayne, I know. Certainly, did you ever think freezing almost half of a large body of water like the Gotham river would go unnoticed?”

“I guess you heard all the slugs that hid in the bottom cry out for help, Your Majesty.”

Arthur’s gaze continued to study him, “Slugs are better than people with their primary, simple brains, they know their place. Then you have the real bottom feeding scum, the ones that walk around on two legs, taking what they want without any care."

Bruce arched an eyebrow, “We can’t be all… eco-terrorists.” Bruce drawled after a moment.

In a beat, Bruce found himself hoisted roughly midair by a vice like grip, then pinned against the wall, feet scrabbling at least three feet in the air. He grabbed at Arthur’s hands on his chest, but even then, he knew it was futile. 

“Arthur!”

“Kal, don’t worry, I won’t kill him, not yet anyway,” he gritted out.

Teelah was suddenly next to Arthur, yet instinctively she knew her King was not in any danger. _By Neptune’s beard!_ _Male mating rituals are the worst_. She couldn’t really blame them, she thought as her eyes swept over Superman, _he_  is worthy of all this attention. She stood guard as her eyes scanned around them, alert for any other threats.

A few patrons turned having heard the loud thud from the direction of the alcove but soon lost interest when they didn't see anything, the thick one-way glass wall of the alcove obscured them.

Bruce grunted and gasped, writhing against Arthur’s solid grip. Yet the even with his precarious position, the taunting smirk barely left his face. “Yes, _Kal_ don’t worry.” He snorted.

“Arthur, please.” Clark had laid a staying hand on Arthur’s arm.

Arthur remained stone faced not flinching. Bruce looked like he was too drunk to care. After several long seconds, Arthur let go and Bruce landed in a heap, a most un-Batman heap on the floor.

Clark rushed forward to help him. Bruce waved him away. Taking his time, he pulled himself off the floor with a slight stagger before he meticulously straightened his tie and elegantly dusted off his dress pants.

“Yes, Arthur,” he said in calm, collected dulcet tones, somehow not slurring even with the alarming alcohol levels in his bloodstream, “You wanna tell _Kal_ about what really happened to that oil rig 3 years ago in the Alaskan Gulf, the one that killed all those people.”

“What do you mean?” Clark’s brows furrowed.

“He means, nothing. Those are just words of a delusional man.”

 “The explosion on that oil rig was not accident—”

“Really, Wayne …you of all people.” Arthur interrupted, voice deep as the roll of low thunder before a violent storm. “You don’t come here accusing me like one of your criminals. Leave."

Bruce was about to _say_ something, _do_ something petty and horrible for he had the advantage now more than ever ...  _What am I doing?_

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, quietly it seemed only his lips moved. He turned to Clark, a different Bruce– the one from long ago, “I’m sorry. I messed up. I’m a mess.”

Clark felt the world had suddenly slowed down, yet somehow, he was still struggling to catch up. He could hear Bruce’s words, but he couldn’t understand why here…why now? Then that ugly memory of Bruce, furious, that night- came back searing like a fire brand  inside his head.

In that singular moment as he watched Clark’s face after his precipitous apology, Bruce instinctively  knew what he was thinking, and he never felt so _ashamed._  He came here, he had deduced Clark was meeting Arthur. Yes, he wanted Clark back. In the jet out of Gotham he planned that, while he was drinking a lot. Then at the small airport when he arrived in Maine where he boarded a chopper, nothing changed even if the pilot didn't want him to get in because he was too drunk but he threatened to not only fire the guy but to blacklist him. And when he got here and saw them, _together_ –

“What?” Clark’s voice a whisper that held pain and shock while a wounded look crowded over his face as his gaze swept between him and Arthur. The air whipped briefly around them and Clark was gone. A faint sonic boom could be heard several hundred miles away.

Arthur glanced at Clark’s empty spot. Bruce heard him exhale slightly and the last thing Bruce saw was a fist connecting to his jaw before he felt streams of sharp, shooting pain on the right side of his face, mercifully ended by abrupt darkness.

 

TBC  

The part about Batman freezing the Gotham river was taken from a JLU episode.

This bad boy was going to be double the length but ahhh... we'll stop here for now. 

Sorry for protracted delay. I had to deal with some health issues then catch up with all the RL stuff that lagged because of dealing with said health issues. And so hopefully my fic writing will get back in gear.

Thank you all for your patience, it really means a lot to me. And of course I love hearing your thoughts and kudos too! Thanks again.

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

“DAMN it! Teelah watch him!” 

 

Arthur ran out of the restaurant through the back door as Teelah handed him his trident. He ran down the steep side of the cliff for what he was about to do need not be seen by the surface dwellers. He gripped his trident in his hand and felt its power in his blood. Arthur was hoping that he wasn’t too late yet. 

 

“Kal, come back. We need to talk," his eyes turned opaque as he whispered to his trident, “Carry my voice to him, make him hear.” The trident vibrated slightly, an unearthly hum pitched beyond human hearing came from the Atlantean staff, this dissipated up and outward carried by the strength of the wind and the power of the sea, fulfilling the wish of its King.

 

 A minute passed and Arthur could feel the air shift as if its very molecules were being torn apart, from afar he could see the sea churn at the wake of the disturbance of something flying over it very fast, as soon as he turned his gaze Clark was already hovering in front of him, his eyes glowing red hot. Arthur reflexively took a defensive stance. 

 

 “Do me a favor. Whatever you did, never do that again…” Clark said in a tight voice as he squeezed his eyes shut. “My hearing is more than adequate …” He opened his eyes, the red had cooled to blue yet he still wore a pained grimace. 

 

“Atlantean science and magic. I’m sorry. But I wasn’t sure if you could hear or want to listen. I need to explain.” With his temper in check he apologized, but he could still feel his blood simmering.

 

“You don’t need to.” 

 

“I want to, because it’s important to me that you know happened.” 

 

“Because Bruce called you out on it?” Clark said evenly, his eyes settled somewhere behind Arthur.

 

 “Don’t worry he’s still in one piece.”

 

“I see that.”

 

“Not my fault, he ruined our dinner.”

 

“Bruce, can be a little…difficult. But he does have a point. I need to know, did you have anything to do with that oil rig explosion?”

 

“Let’s get to the point then. The short answer is no.” Arthur’s voice was clipped, part of him felt a little hurt that Clark had to ask him that, but he couldn’t exactly blame him. “Now, my turn: Do you intend to be the world’s guardian? It’s savior?” he scowled.  

 

Clark looked shocked at the question, “I don’t want those things, I just want to help.” 

 

“I think you know it’s not that simple.” 

 

“Don’t you think I know that, I know the world I live in.” He squared his shoulders like he was gathering strength but there was a sadness in his eyes, “My father once told me I had to decide what kind of man I want to be… and I always wanted to help... it felt right. Not everyone gets a chance to do what I can do.”

 

Arthur considered his answer briefly. "Kal, look…,”he sighed, for the first-time Clark saw a weariness in his eyes, he spoke slowly, as if each word came out with great effort, “I am not in the habit of explaining myself, my actions as King or the actions of my people to just anyone, especially to surface dwellers let alone someone like Wayne. Atlantis is complicated to say the least. Much more complex now that its ruled by a half breed like me. There is a delicate balance I must tread. During that time, there was a coup in Atlantis that I had to deal with. But I just want you to hear it from me, and trust when I say I did not kill those people.”

 

“Then who did?” 

 

Arthur turned the trident in his hand, eyes unfocused and faraway, he gripped the staff tighter in his hand drawing strength from it before he exhaled, “Kal, don’t worry yourself with these things, you have enough on your plate. I am their King. Atlantis takes care of their own. We have dealt with those responsible.” 

  

 He pointed the trident to the building, “You have unfinished business, take him home before Teelah throws him out to sea.” 

 

“Arthur, I’m sorry.”  

 

“I am, too,” Arthur said after a silence. “Bruce Wayne … the Batman. You and him. Wow.” He rammed the trident so savagely into the ground pieces of stone and earth splintered to several directions around his foot.

 

“We’re done.” Clark could hear the slight catch in his own voice. 

 

“Does he know that? Because it didn’t look like he _knew_ that. Can’t say I blame him, if I had someone like you, I don’t think I’ll let you go.” Another long pause. “You know you yelled out his name when you had the nightmare,” the words came out soft, flat. 

 

Clark’s stomach twisted.  _What else did I say._ “Sometimes I have these dreams. Mostly nightmares about what happened in Metropolis.”

 

 “He hurt you…the way you sounded…What the hell happened, Kal?”

 

This time Clark was alarmed, worried if he yelled out anything else. _Get a grip Clark_. “I mean, like I told you. With who I am and with what I do, things can get complicated.”

 

Arthur studied him, he knew Kal was trying to shift attention away from Bruce, “Kal, _we_ are all complicated _. I_ can help you, make things a little better, you deserve it! I know this is a lot to ask… for you to trust me.”

‘

A soft chuckle came from Clark, “I have no doubt you can help. Arthur… God… being with you… you make me want things. I don’t think I can have those things right now–“

 

“So, you mean… I never had a chance.”

 

“Arthur–”

 

“Don’t answer that,” Arthur interrupted testily before he paused, voice calmer when he continued,”– I don’t think I would be able to take what you’re going to say, best it remains unsaid… Damn it!” Arthur stabbed the ground once again with his trident causing another mini explosion of debris where he stood.

 

“Arthur, this is my fault I should’ve just stayed away.”

 

 The young King, vehemently shook his head, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make this about me. It’s pride. You can’t blame a guy… I just want you so much…maybe..I’m a fucking idiot.”

 

“You’re not an idiot, Arthur Curry.” Clark’s voice was suddenly raw, it hurt to see Arthur like this, he wanted to tell him that he gave him so much during their short time together but he couldn’t, _shouldn’t–_ for what could he tell him? It wouldn’t be fair to Arthur at all. Clark floated closer to Arthur until they almost touched, quietly asking for understanding. He trailed his fingers on the hair around Arthur’s face, they lingered on his cheeks along his beard. Arthur let him, his eyes burning into Clark’s, his breath hitched at the contact– he let the trident fall to the ground yet he kept his hands to his side. Fighting an impulse, he clenched his fists until they shook and he could not bear it anymore, he surged forward, held Clark’s face, pulled him closer then kissed him. Clark kissed back and their kisses were gentle then rough– wanting, needing, remembering; perhaps a promise, perhaps a goodbye.  

 

It was late, the sky- a still life painting with a shadowed moon and the stars suspended in blackness. The tide had shifted. Below them, the sea churned, gathering its soul. The surf broke against the rocks below strong and steady. They were unmindful of the large wave that sprayed them. Finally, they parted, quietly. One took to the skies while the other to the sea. 

 

 

 

First there was pain then soothing cold. Bruce Wayne opened his eyes to the soothing cold. His vision was blurry at first, but he had the sense that he was in his room back in the lake house. Clark’s hazy face crowded over him and for a moment Bruce felt a sense of déjà vu – waking up with Clark next to him. It was nice, peaceful almost.

 

When his eyes finally focused, it took some time for his throat to work. He said the first thing that came to his head, “There’s soot on your chin.”

 

“Burned up jet fuel, there was a cargo plane with engine trouble, I had to leave after I brought you here.” Clark absently took the edge of his cape and wiped the black spot.  Bruce found the gesture strangely out of place with Clark, majestic in his Superman suit. It made him look painfully young.

 

“You came back, after all that?”

 

“I promised Alfred.” Clark leaned over him and removed the towel from Bruce’s face and held it on the palm of his hand. He blew on it gently, Bruce could see an icy mist settle delicately over the towel. It was mesmerizing, the way Clark’s eyes were half closed, his long sooty lashes flicking over his cheeks, the way his lips came together, the way the cold air crystallized as it came out from his lips. It was breathtaking yet it all hit him with a pang of guilt and longing.

 

Clark placed the cold cloth on his temple “You found a way to track me. I guess if there was anyone in the world that would be able to do it it would be you.”

 

Bruce grunted something in response as he raised his hand reflexively to take the towel, his hand brushing Clark’s. He noticed when Clark quickly drew away from his touch.

 

“Alfred,” Clark continued his own train of thoughts. “Had to leave and go somewhere urgent … he spoke to your pilot in case you’re wondering… gave him a bonus for putting up with you.”

 

 _Alfred_. For the umpteenth time, Bruce thought of how much he really did not deserve that man. All of that, plus he made Clark stay.

 

Clark stood across him hands across his chest, assessing Bruce before he continued, “Arthur told me what happened after I left. You had a mild concussion. No damage to the microcirculation. I don’t see blood collecting anywhere. Your face will have some bruising, not a lot… considering–”  

 

“Microcirculation. Right.” Bruce said dryly as he tried to sit up, a searing pain lanced through his head, he gave himself a moment to breathe through it, before he tried again.

 

“I’m sorry, Clark. I’m sorry for being a stubborn asshole. I’m sorry for hurting you.” It all just tumbled out, no strategy, no finesse– it must be the head injury Bruce thought, misery tearing inside him. He glanced down at his watch it read 11:30PM. It’s not that late yet, most days he would be out already patrolling Gotham. But this wasn’t most days. A throbbing pain began to diffuse through the side of his head as if to prove him right. It pissed him off that Arthur was able to knock him out drunk or not. A lot of things were pissing him off right now and the throbbing pain made things a thousand times worse. Clark standing there, was a painful reminder of another thing of what was wrong with him. Painfully, he managed to grab a bottle of pills from a bedside drawer, popped two and chased it down with a swallow of brown liquor left on his nightstand. Bruce could feel Clark’s eyes on him, he could feel Clark holding back from saying something. He looked up at him.

 

 Clark caught his gaze and held it, Bruce was relieved that he did, thinking that Clark would just turn away and leave him. There was a long moment of each saying nothing, the unspoken things thick and insoluble, Bruce sighed, “Tell me how to fix this.” 

 

A frown came across Clark’s face, before he quickly turned his head, his gaze focused somewhere out at the lake maybe out somewhere far away. A thick fall mist had settled over the lake, not unlike the last time they saw each other here.

 

“I thought you stopped that,” Clark finally said his voice tight.

 

“You thought wrong.”

 

There was a hard set on Clark’s jaw. “The Bruce Wayne self-destructive train is just barreling through. Forgive me for caring.”

  

 “Don’t do that,” he said under his breath. _Not now_. _He needs to do this now. Before…before…_

 

“Tell me how to fix this? I  _want_  to fix this. I want to. A million times over if I could. Just… tell me what to do. Please.”

 

Clark gave him a more intense look, to Bruce it looked like he was deciding on something, like he was selecting just the right angle to lobotomize his frontal lobe with his heat vision. Just the usual happy Bruce Wayne thoughts.

 

  “The oil platform– that wasn’t Arthur’s fault.” There was a quiet confidence in his voice.

 

 _Jesus what the hell? Clark was defending Arthur. Of course_.

“Just as you had nothing to do with what happened in Metropolis. Sure.” As soon as he let those words out something bit inside Bruce. He was very aware he was using this as a weapon, he couldn’t care less about what Arthur did, right now it was about him and Clark.

 

Clark shook his head, frustrated, but wisely avoided Bruce’s baiting. “Bruce, he didn’t kill those people.”

 

“And you believe him. It must be nice to find someone like you–”

 

“He was dealing with a rebellion. His people– I thought you were apologizing!”

 

“I am. But I am not apologizing for what I said about Arthur. Satellite images. Telemetry from underwater drones, they don’t lie. You needed to know that.”

 

“That’s rich coming from you, knowing what _you_ are capable of. You know, maybe I was just lucky, that we slept together because, what if we didn’t …what would’ve happened Bruce? Would you just have outright murdered me? That would’ve been, better, right? Get rid of the one percent chance. But really Bruce… I don’t think so, because you enjoyed it! You enjoyed how you had power over me. All along it was an excuse for your sick obsession with Superman. Be at your mercy, you wanted me on that floor begging you–”

 

“We didn’t just sleep together!” Bruce yelled at him as he shot up from the bed. A pained hiss escaped his lips when he felt something pull at his lower back, burning and sharp. The pain meds didn’t kick in yet, he hated himself losing control.  Slowly, he sat back on the bed.

 

His outburst was followed by another thick silence.

 

“Lie down, on your stomach.” Clark finally said as he stood next to him, scanning him again.

 

“Why?” He asked irritably.

 

“It’s up to you Bruce. You want to feel better or not?”

 

They glared at each other for a minute. Bruce decided he didn’t need his pity and shifted away from Clark, he had stronger meds he could give himself if he could just reach them. Unfortunately, the slightest attempt of movement provoked another burst of intense pain.. Still annoyed but now also just tired of being in pain, Bruce  grudgingly settled  on his stomach and pillowed his head with his arms.

 

Clark sat next to him. He moved his shirt up. Gently he laid his hands on his back, heat began to gradually build in Clark’s hands, seeping into Bruce’s muscles. Clark’s firm hands on his skin felt incredible, Bruce felt the low concentrated, heat release the tense muscles, healing inflamed nerves, the pain ebbing away. In another time, this would have been a prelude to some playful teasing, kissing of course– a lot of kissing.

 

“You have an old injury. Falling on that floor didn’t help it,” Clark’s very clinical and very dry voice interrupted his thoughts, a harsh reminder to how things are different now.

 

Bruce felt another headache blooming as he fought to stave a flash of anger. “I didn’t fall, I was knocked unconscious… Clark, what we had, it wasn’t just sex, it was more than that. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll stop.”

 

“I still have that handkerchief,” came the quiet reply.

 

Bruce drew a breath, taken aback by the non-sequitur sequitur. This whole conversation had just taken a more surreal nature. He remembered that handkerchief from a long time ago, the handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit. He used it to wipe off the muddy water from Clark’s face in that street-corner, from a different life.

 

“It was this cool thing to have from you, a silk handkerchief, hand – embroidered with your initials …I mean who carries those things anymore, everyday.” Clark continued as he rhythmically massaged long, slow strokes that Bruce almost moaned at the contact, the soothing warmth, the firmness of Clark’s hands.

 

It took him a moment to manage an answer, “Yeah, it came with the suit. Those fancy English guys, go figure.”

 

“I always had it with me. It was like being with you throughout the day…” Clark’s voice was low. His hypnotic hands had travelled lower on his back, while something else was beginning to pool in Bruce’s groins.

 

They were quiet for a time. It felt good, Clark there next to him, touching him, lulling him into this idyllic moment. Logic was telling Bruce this was a beautiful lie but God damn it he wanted this lie to be forever.

 

Bruce turned slowly to his back, his hand, tentatively reaching for Clark. And Clark took his hand, took it and held it in the same gentle way he had held it not so long ago when things seemed simpler, “I still kept it even after what happened to us, after what you did to me, to remind me that it I could be hurt…like that. _You_ hurt me like that.” The bitterness in his voice was unequivocal.

 

Bruce sighed heavily, the illusion had ended, much too soon, “I’m sorry. Please.”  

 

“I am, too.” _It’s funny how we keep using the same words_. He let go, stood and moved away from him.

 

“Clark,” said Bruce, he got up, more cautious this time– secretly celebrating when the fact that he didn’t hurt as much or his feet didn’t give way. He desperately wanted to just walk over to where Clark stood and pull him into his arms and hold him but he knew he lost the right. He made a mess not even Batman could fix. 

 

“Remember, when you would just stand behind me and rub my neck and my back when I was hunched over my computer, working, I liked that. Even if didn’t need it, I loved how it made me feel. I remember when we would just fall asleep holding each other and you were just you, no nightmares that made your heart race, no waking up in cold sweat. And it felt great that somehow I could do that for you. Do you really think we can ever go back to that Bruce? That _I_ could go back to that?”

“Give me a chance.” _I can be better_. _Believe me._

 

“I believe you.”

 

Could he read minds? It should unsettle him that possibility, but strangely enough it didn’t.

 

“Bruce, I know you’re sorry. I believe you.”

 

“I see. But?” There was always a _but_. _Is that pity on Clark’s face?_

 

“I’m here for you Bruce, if you need me. But we can’t go back to how we were. I can’t look at you and not see what you did _._ ” _But I want to forgive you. I miss you._ _Yet with all the doubts I have about myself it feels worse that I was so wrong about you too._  

 

He snorted. “This is why… after all I’ve done… you can’t look like you and say those things, you could’ve hurt me, humiliated me, exposed me, killed me– but that’s not you. Superman would never do those things.” he ran a hand through his hair, a helpless gesture, “– I never know what to do with you,” Bruce said softly almost an afterthought but nevertheless true.  

 

_Same here._

 

“You’ve said that before.” _._ Clark’s voice was sad. It wasn’t a typical Bruce thing to admit. But then he remembered how Bruce was so angry, how Bruce did not listen, how Bruce hated the very idea of him, how Bruce hurt him. And all that was left was a heaviness inside his chest coupled with a widening gulf of pain, regret.

 

“Clark. I’m not asking-” Bruce stopped, Clark’s eyebrows had suddenly knitted and it became obvious he was listening to something else. A hand dropped to his side and clutched his cape.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Sarah just left a message on Clark’s phone. Jeff… Jeff passed away an hour ago” – he sighed, the sigh of someone upset, weary and very, very angry. Clark didn’t even explain who Jeff was, he knew he didn’t need to. “He did so well after his last surgery 5 days ago. Today, he was in the middle of his physical therapy when he went into cardiac arrest. They rushed him back to surgery, they couldn’t save him… they think it was a clot that embolized to his lungs.”

 

“God, I’m sorry Clark.”

 

“While we were being idiots in the restaurant, Jeff was fighting for his life. How many more, Bruce?” His voice dropped, an effort to hold back all the frustration. “How many more will die because of me. My parents saved me from Krypton but for what? I have these gifts, given to me by destiny and cataclysm. Metropolis, the park, O’Keefe, Jeff… What’s the point? No matter what I do… What am I doing?”

 

“Clark,” he said quietly, testing the air between them and it that moment it felt so natural to place a hand on his shoulder. He prayed Clark would let him hold him there and not flinch away in disgust. Perhaps somehow, he could soothe him because he felt Clark needed it and perhaps because he needed it too. Because, funny enough Bruce had asked himself those questions over and over again through the years.

 

“No, it’s not you Clark, the park, even Metropolis. What I said earlier was cruel, it’s not true.”

 

“You were right to say that. Everything I’ve _caused_ –”

 

“Don’t do this to yourself. Have faith in yourself and the good that you do.” _Have faith in me… in us._

 

“The good that I do?” He scoffed, “With the death I bring.”

 

“Yes! It’s worth it for that plane-full of people, that village in Columbia– it’s worth it for an entire planet that wouldn’t be here if you didn’t stop Zod.”

 

Clark fisted his cape roughly, barely controlled anger in his voice, Bruce could feel a sudden warmth flare on Clark’s skin, “But. It happened because OF ME! Me, being here...”

 

“Clark,” Bruce’s voice was urgent, he just wanted to pull Clark out of his head, out of the despair filling him. Slowly, he rubbed his hand firmly on his arm, the urge to hold him closer almost overpowering him, but he knew he shouldn’t. “You did not want Zod to happen. Unfortunately, your first job as Superman was to save an entire planet, stop your own people. Superman or not, everything we do has consequences even if every day we try to do the right thing. We can only do our best, fight the fight, live with what we’ve done. Learn from our failures. It’s takes an entire lifetime.”

 

During the silence that followed a nagging voice that sounded suspiciously like Alfred’s echoed in Bruce's head. _Maybe you should listen to your own advice, Sir_. Once this all blows over, maybe I should change my meds, he thought wearily.

 

Clark remained standing there, his head hanging down, thinking God knows what. Bruce could only hope he got to him somehow. He imagined the time when Clark would rest that head next to his chest and he’d stroke his hair in his sleep and tug at the curls on his neck. Clark brought his head back up, his jaw set, his eyes an intense blue. Bruce saw he had made up his mind about something. He moved away from Bruce. Bruce let his hand fall to his side. Clark began walking towards the steel and glass patio doors, achingly beautiful in his Superman suit, getting ready to fly out of his room.  _Out of my_ _life_.  _No, he can’t leave_   _just like that._   _Stop._

 

But the way Clark set his shoulders, the way he sounded right now…

 

 “What about Luthor?” 

 

The way Clark glanced at him, Bruce knew what he was correct in his suspicions, “Luthor is my problem. An unfinished business I need to take care off. My problem.” He had this finality in his voice which Bruce didn’t like.

 

“I could help you. I know him, I worked with him.” Bruce hated saying that, he knew it reminded Clark that Bruce worked with Luthor to destroy him yet it was necessary. 

 

Once again there was a faraway look in Clark’s eyes this time he was perfectly still, and to Bruce, distracted, his mind shifting. He remembered when they were together, how sometimes Clark would phase out sometimes in mid conversation. There were awkward moments where he would just leave, abruptly. Bruce chalked all the absentmindedness as a byproduct of his job. Bruce didn’t mind it, he wasn’t the most attentive person in the planet either and besides he found it charming. And Clark was always so apologetic when these things happened and often it led to amazing sex and …. fuck what was he thinking.

 

“Clark,” he said, his voice firm. “Think about this. I can help you.”

 

Bruce waited. At least he didn’t leave yet. If he refused his help, there was no way he would let Clark do this alone, he never took no for an answer.

 

“Maybe you could do something for me.”

 

 

 

AUTHOR"S NOTES;

I’m sorry this update languished in the depths of my hard drive. I hit another rough patch these past couple of months. I had to get the various bits of my life together along with some LTR drama. But I’m here now once again. Yay!

 

 I know this is rather short, but the other half is still in editing hell and I want this out for you guys at least.

 

And yeah, JL is coming next month and so got to get my ass in gear with my WIPs.

 

I can’t thank you all enough. To all who stuck with me and for those who just started reading this fic... THANK YOU!! Your kudos and comments told me you cared for this story and that means a LOT.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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